


Borrowed Wings

by FallenShandeh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dean is a paramedic - he sees some shit, Eventual Smut, M/M, NaNoWriMo, Paramedic!Dean, References to rape/non-con/dub-con, Semi-Graphic Description of Corpses, equestrian!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenShandeh/pseuds/FallenShandeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is an internationally renowned showjumping rider. His two brothers, Balthazar and Gabriel, also ride.</p><p>In a horrific twist of fate, Cas and his horse fall while jumping, resulting in horrible injuries to both.</p><p>Dean Winchester is one of the paramedics called to the scene.</p><p>Both men are to find their lives changed forever. In a tale of friendship, trials, pain and comfort, we explore their budding relationship.</p><p>{NaNoWriMo 2014}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidents Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palominopup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/gifts).



> The title, Borrowed Wings, refers to the saying "Horses lend us the wings we lack".
> 
> I have been around horses all my life, so this fic is technical and accurate. If you have any questions about terms, methods or concepts discussed, just ask me. Sometimes I forget not everyone knows about horses. Hopefully things will be explained more if I can write this fic properly.

Consciousness returned to Cas along with Gabe's panicked voice telling someone on the phone to 'get the ambulance here quickly'. The last thing Cas could remember was cantering towards a big spread, watching the takeoff spot come closer and closer and thinking there was no way in hell he could adjust the big grey stallion's stride to get to that spot right. Not with the horse fighting him.

It must have been a bad fall. Gabe was a rider himself, eventing rather than showjumping, and knew exactly what he should be doing in this situation, but panic had overtaken. The number of times Cas had come off while mucking around with Gabe and Balthazar when they were younger... all three had fallen more times than they could count. So to make Gabriel panic like that, it had to be nasty.

Strangely, there was no pain. Even minor falls hurt from a horse as big as Sterling. Cas sat up slowly and swallowed down a curl of nausea. His head spun something fierce and he couldn't see straight.

So, concussion, then.

"Gabe... Sterling."

Gabriel paused, looked at Cas, then sighed. "He's with the vet now. Balthazar is handling him."

"I know the approach was off. I couldn't fix it and he wouldn't stop... wouldn't circle away... tell me he's okay, Gabe, this is my fault-"

Gabe knelt and pushed Cas back down by the shoulders. "We don't know yet. Jo only just got here. I'll be straight with you, though... it doesn't look good. He won't put weight on his nearside foreleg. He's either done a tendon or broken something."

Cas closed his eyes. A rebellious tear escaped anyway. "Shit. I hope it's the tendon..."

Horses didn't tend to heal well from broken legs. A broken elbow or shoulder, maybe, but no lower on the leg than that. If Sterling had broken his cannon bone, he would have to be put down. Tendon injuries, on the other hand, required lengthy box rest, but weren't often career-ending.

Lucidity slipped away from him. Cas was only vaguely aware of the ambulance arriving. The paramedics put his neck in a vice and then eased him onto a backboard.

The next thing he was aware of was a lumpy hospital bed and stunning green eyes staring at him from a very handsome face.

He vagued out again.

Cas drifted for a few days. In his lucid moments, he spent most of his time wondering if Sterling was okay. During one of them, a doctor came in and explained his injuries. Cas had fractured C2 and C3 - vertebrae in his neck - but the fractures were stable, so he just had to be careful and keep the soft neck brace on for two weeks and they would heal fine. He had a hairline fracture to his right humerus, up near his shoulder. Two cracked ribs and a shattered left radius rounded out his injuries. They’d stuck his arm in a backslab for now, because they didn’t want to risk operating on it until the swelling went down. The ribs were strapped, and would heal on their own eventually.

And because of the nasty concussion he’d suffered, the doctors were being extremely careful what painkillers they gave him.

Even with the highest dose of the strongest painkillers they could safely dose him up with, the pain was exquisite.

 

It was on Thursday that the green-eyed man returned. Cas was no longer drifting in and out of lucidity, and his pupils were no longer two different sizes. As a nice bonus, the doctors had just seen fit to change his painkillers, so he wasn’t in agony anymore. His ribs, arm and neck ached dully. His shoulder didn’t hurt at all.

Gabe hadn’t been to visit in a couple of days, and Balt was avoiding his calls.

“They say your helmet saved your life,” the stranger commented.

Cas glanced up at him and suddenly remembered this guy had strapped him onto that backboard. “You were one of the paramedics.”

“Dean Winchester,” the man said with a nod. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“Castiel Novak, of Novak Equestrian,” Cas replied without thinking, then blushed. “But you already know that. Do you know if my horse is alright?”

Dean sat down on the chair beside the bed. “I have no idea, I’m sorry. I never saw the horse. You’re crazy, you know that? Voluntarily putting your life in the hands - or hooves - of something ten times your size-”

“Five and a half,” Cas corrected. “It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I got the approach wrong to that jump, and I couldn’t stop him or circle him away.”

“And you want to get back on. That’s what’s crazy about it.” Dean’s expression was enigmatic.

“When did I say that?” Cas couldn’t remember saying anything of the sort. But Dean was right, he did want to get back in the saddle.

“You were mumbling on Tuesday… it was the only coherent thing you said.”

Cas blushed. He didn’t understand why this paramedic kept coming to check on him. He’d fallen on Sunday… “I’ve had lots of falls. I’ve been hurt more times than I care to count. I’ve had quite a few ambulance rides. I’ve never had a paramedic come to check on me.”

Dean’s freckles stood out when he blushed. Cas thought it was adorable. “The… the last time I was called out to a fall from a horse, we lost the patient. It wasn’t far from where we picked you up…” The paramedic looked down and blinked. When he met Cas’s eyes again, his were shining. “It brought back… memories.”

Cas nodded. “That would have been two years ago?”

“Yeah…”

“I knew her. Ellen Harvelle… She ran a horse and rider training business called Shoot for the Moon... taught me everything I know. It was a client’s horse.” Cas sighed. “That horse was always going to kill someone. It should have been shot.” He’d stopped taking on horses to train for six months after Ellen’s death. Jo had stopped riding altogether. Cas didn’t blame her. “Last I heard it’s put four more trainers in hospital. I wish the stupid girl who owns it would put it down.”

“I’ve lost more patients than any paramedic really wants to admit to,” Dean said, rubbing his face. “But she was the hardest to let go. She really left an impression on us.”

“Ellen was like that,” Cas agreed. “I’m glad I was out of town at a show when it happened. I’d have been there, otherwise, and that’s not something I want to see. I’ve seen some fatal accidents in my years on the circuit, but it’s different when it’s your mentor. I feel bad for Jo… watching your parents die sucks.”

Dean nodded. “Sucks balls. Sorry to pry, but how did yours go?”

“Dad was on his motorcycle when he was hit by a truck. I was two. I don’t remember him at all. Gabe and Balt do, but I don’t.” Cas shrugged. “I never really missed having a dad. Mom was hard though. She had breast cancer.” He was very matter-of-fact about it now, but it had been five years. “Balt had to quit his job and move back to Kansas because Gabe couldn’t cope with losing Mom and then having to deal with what it did to me. Not on his own. I was twenty, I didn’t need raising, but I…” He trailed off, pretending to be fascinated by a loose thread in his shirt. Why was he sharing all this? He didn’t talk about that. Ever. That was a very dark time in his life which he didn’t like to remember. He’d done things he was ashamed of, and not even his brothers knew all of it.

“You couldn’t handle losing your mom,” Dean finished gently. Then he grinned and chuckled. “You should’ve seen me when my dad died. It wasn’t pretty.”

 _Now, when could you ever not be pretty?_ Cas wondered, but wasn’t brave enough to actually ask. Dean Winchester was gorgeous, but with Castiel’s luck, probably straight as an arrow. “Is it ever?”

“Nope. Dealing with the families is the hardest part of losing patients. They need someone to blame, and more often than not, that someone ends up being you.” Dean paused, then glanced down the hallway. “I think your brothers are here. I should go.”

“Wait,” Cas protested, but Dean was already on his feet and halfway out. “Wait! Are you on facebook? Add me.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, but Cas wasn’t sure what he actually meant, and by the time he found the words to ask, the paramedic was gone.

“Was that the paramedic from Sunday?” Gabe asked instead of saying hello.

Cas nodded. “Now quit avoiding the question. Give it to me straight. Sterling.”

“He’ll never compete again,” Balt said. “Not even in dressage. But Jo managed to sort him out so that if he does okay in the next couple of months, we might be able to use him as a breeding stallion.”

Cas blinked. “So he didn’t-?”

“He did,” Gabe cut in. “His leg is broken. Right about halfway up his cannon bone, not quite all the way through but not far off it. Jo put a plate in and set up a body sling for him, to keep his weight off it. It’s still touch and go. He tore his suspensory tendon too, so even if the bone heals well, he won’t be rideable.”

“But we might be able to save him,” Balt finished. “It’s up to him now.”

With a huge sigh of relief, Cas closed his eyes. “He’s a fighter. He’ll be okay.” Suddenly, he remembered the competition in three weeks. “Did you scratch me from Spruce Meadows?”

“Gabe talked them into a full refund of your entry fee,” Balt said, grinning. “And stabling fee, and even the hotel booking fee.”

“Admit it,” Gabriel teased. “I’m the best brother ever.”

Cas sighed. “Gabe… I’m sorry… he was meant to be your eventer-”

“And now he’s my new breeding stallion. Don’t sweat it. Just heal.”

 

It had been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. Dean would still be on call for another twelve hours.

He flopped down on the couch in the paramedics’ lounge and fished his phone out of his pocket. It started to ring just as he was scrolling through his contacts for Sammy’s number.

Why the fuck was Bobby calling him _now_?

“Yeah,” he answered.

“You want to finish fixing your car so you can get it out of my garage?” Bobby growled.

“I’m sorry, I know I promised I’d have her out by last Sunday. I’ve been… busy.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “I just need to check her over one more time, to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and then I’ll get her out. I have no plans for tomorrow so I’ll make sure I do it then.”

“What’s wrong, boy?”

Damn. He’d thought he was doing a good job hiding the edge in his voice. He sighed and decided Bobby wasn’t going to leave him alone unless he told the truth. “The day I was supposed to pick Baby up, Garth called in sick. Bad Mexican or something. So Chuck begged me to work. We were sent out to a job out near Shoot for the Moon. It keeps coming back, Bobby. Every time I close my eyes…”

“Ellen Harvelle was a damn fine woman,” Bobby said. “Tell me about this job.”

Bobby wasn’t one for talking things out, but he was an incredibly good listener when he wanted to be. Dean hummed thoughtfully. “He’s not as messy. He’ll still be in hospital a while, but he was never in any danger of dying. He can thank his helmet for that. It was right next door to Ellen’s, and I haven’t gone anywhere near that area since that day. I know this guy isn’t going to die but I can’t stop thinking about him and if I don’t go check on him at least once per shift I can’t do my job… Horse people are crazy, Bobby. He keeps asking after his horse. That’s all he cares about.”

Bobby snorted. “Of course he does. Horse people with their horses are like you with Sam.”

That made more sense than it should have. “Huh. I never thought of it that way.”

“Except horses are fragile. Sam isn’t.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to Dean that horses weren’t as durable as they looked. Perhaps Novak wasn’t as crazy as Dean had thought. He seemed like a nice guy apart from the fanatical adoration for horses, and the apparent determination to get himself killed. “I hate horses, so I guess I don’t really get it.”

“What’s your excuse regarding why you keep checking on him?”

“Excuse? I told him the truth.” Dean frowned. Bobby was shrewd, but he was way off on this.

“Uh-huh. I doubt that. You’ll have told him about Ellen, but that’s not why you’re checking on him. Is it?”

It wasn’t really a question. More lies wouldn’t work. Bobby was too sharp.

Thankfully, before Dean had to come up with a reply, his pager beeped 911. “I have to go. Got a job.”

 

Cas couldn’t sleep.

It was well after midnight, and he just kept on checking facebook to see if Dean had added him yet. And for updates on Sterling’s condition, because the horse definitely wasn’t out of the woods.

He heard footsteps and hurriedly put his phone away. If a nurse caught him playing with it, it would be confiscated. He needed to sleep. He knew that. He just wasn’t having much luck with the endeavor.

It turned out he needn’t have worried. It wasn’t a nurse. He’d have known that silhouette anywhere, even though he hadn’t known Dean for a week yet.

“Oh,” Dean said. “You’re still awake.”

Cas stared at Dean, head tilted. The paramedic’s voice was steady, but not without effort. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Cas. Can I call you Cas?”

He clearly wasn’t, but if he didn’t want to talk, Cas didn’t want to force him to. “Okay.”

“I just hate my job sometimes.” Dean sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.

Cas carefully reached out with his good arm and rested his hand on the paramedic’s shoulder. “I’d bet you’ve seen some shit. But you save lives. And I really appreciate what you and your partner did for me.”

“That was Chuck - he’s actually Garth’s partner. Garth was sick.” Dean shrugged. “I usually work with Anna, but you can’t have a crew of one. It just doesn’t work. Someone has to drive and someone has to keep an eye on the patient.”

“Semantics. You guys saved my life.”

“We didn’t, you weren’t in any-”

“Just shut up and take the credit.” Cas smiled. “You’ve got to find the good in the job.”

“My job is great most of the time,” Dean admitted. “Even losing patients doesn’t normally bother me. It’s just part of the job, you know? Can’t save everyone.”

“But?”

“I’ve been awake for twenty-five hours straight now. Hourly rate for the first twelve hours. On call on a volunteer basis for the rest. Dispatch wanted me to work another few hours, but after that last job, Anna told them to shove it up their asses. This guy, Alistair something-or-other, the cops raided his house. What they found made them call us. Three crews, the coroner, Homicide. And then on top of that the special victims unit. Garth and Chuck have been in this line of work for a long time, and Chuck… well.” Dean paused, trying not to let the joke seem inappropriate. “Chuck chucked. The rest of us weren’t far off it. Charlie was crying the whole time. What that prick did to those children… I’ve never seen anything like it. I doubt the survivors will ever recover.”

Cas rubbed Dean’s shoulder. “Kids are resilient. Right when you think there’s no way an experience won’t break them, they surprise you.”

“This was… this was horrific, Cas. We’ve all been offered therapy. I’m not going to go. I don’t need it. I’m okay. Just a bit… shaken. They’re just kids.”

“And he’s a monster who’s going to go away for a very long time… or maybe they’ll execute him.” Cas hoped that would be the case. For someone to harm children so badly that Dean was this rattled, they had to be so far beyond redemption that ever releasing them, or risking escape, was, in his eyes, gross negligence.

Kansas did sometimes hand out the death penalty, but nobody had been executed in quite a long time. Cas remembered reading something about that, but couldn’t recall specifics.

“Cas, he-” Dean started, but his voice cracked and the tough-guy mask shattered. Cas ran his fingers through the paramedic’s short dirty blonde hair, murmuring gently to him. Dean’s large frame shook with racking sobs. Cas’ murmurings weren’t helping, so he switched to singing.

_“Hey Jude,_

_“Don’t make it bad._

_“Take a sad song_

_“And make it better.”_

Dean’s sobs slowed a little, but he was still shaking violently.

_“Remember,_

_“To let her under your skin_

_“And you can begin_

_“To make it better…”_

As Cas sang, Dean’s shaking slowed to trembling, and then, eventually, stilled. By the end of the song, the large man’s breathing had slowed. Dean’s head was in Cas’ lap. Cas kept running his fingers through that soft, short hair, and the paramedic’s breathing slowed further, into the deep relaxation of sleep.

Once he was certain Dean was out, Cas sighed softly and murmured, “I barely know you, but I think I’m falling in love with you. I just wish I had a chance with you. If Balt found Hael, I can find someone too.”

Balt was married, with a kid on the way. Gabe was too busy fooling around with anyone who would sit still long enough to bother with any of that, but Cas was jealous of his oldest brother. He wanted that kind of happiness. He just kept falling for all the wrong people - straight guys, or assholes, or cheaters. Or Raphael. Raphael was romantic, and funny, and gentle and sensitive… until Cas wanted to think for himself.

In hindsight he really should have listened to his horses. None of them had liked the guy, and look what had happened.

Cas looked down at Dean with a fond smile. The past didn’t matter. At worst, he had someone he could call a friend now. Things were definitely looking up.

“Goodnight, Dean. Sleep soundly. I will watch over you.”

Dean did sleep soundly. Cas didn’t sleep at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did just go there ^.^


	2. Smoke on the Water

Cas must have drifted off at some point. He remembered watching the sun rise, and the way the orange light of dawn turned Dean’s hair to spun gold.

He woke to his phone ringing and went to roll over. A weight across his legs stopped him. Dean was still out like a light.

With a huff, Cas put his pillow over his face and tried to ignore his phone. It rang out, and then within seconds started ringing again.

Oh.

_Oh._

Only five people had this number. His brothers, his vet, and his secretary Hannah. And none of them would call more than once unless it was an emergency.

He scrambled for his phone.

It was Jo.

“What’s happened to Sterling?” he demanded.

“Cas. Cas, it’s not Sterling.”

Not… Sterling? “What?”

“It’s Berry. Balt called me an hour ago… said he tried to get a hold of you then but you weren’t picking up. Cas… I’m so sorry.”

Cas had to remind himself to breathe. Berry was his favorite among his current show horses.

“Cas?”

“I’m still here,” he choked out.

Berry. _Berry_. She was going to be okay. She had to be.

“I need your permission,” Jo said gently.

“Permission?” Cas repeated stupidly. His tongue felt like it was coated in cotton wool. “For what?”

“Oh, _Cas_ …” Her voice was full of sympathy. “I can’t save her. Ethically, I can’t end her pain without her owner’s permission. That’s you.”

Cas swallowed. He was going to be sick. “What happened?”

“We can’t keep her still long enough to do anything to help her, Cas. She has the worst case of colic I’ve ever seen. I can’t operate. I can’t even get a needle into her. I’m sorry, Cas… I’m so sorry.”

“Do it,” he managed. “Just… make it quick for her, okay? Get Balt to shoot her. At least then it’ll be quick.” _Quick_. He covered his mouth with his left hand, not caring that it hurt like hell. “I don’t want to… to see her. After. Tell Gabe I want him to-” definitely going to be sick “-to make arrangements.” He couldn’t say the word ‘bury’. His gorge rose, and he couldn’t swallow it down. “I have to go.”

Cas threw his phone aside. Dean was still laying across his lap. “Dean!” he barked urgently, rousing the green-eyed man. “Move!”

Not awake enough to process much, Dean just did as he was told. Cas launched himself off the bed, ignoring the pain that shot through his entire body, and bolted for the bathroom, sobbing and trying not to retch before he got there. He made it, but not by much. He clutched the sink with both hands just to stay on his feet while his stomach rejected everything that was in it.

He was still dry heaving when his knees collapsed out from under him. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Cas?” Dean stood in the doorway. “Do you need a doctor?”

Cas shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak but the only sound he could make was a soft keening.

“What happened?” Dean moved to the sink to rinse it out and then, once that was done, knelt down next to Cas, who could only shake his head again. A hard, calloused hand stroked his cheek, then encouraged him in for a hug. Cas fell apart, sobbing, screaming and mostly incoherent.

All Dean could gather from the injured equestrian’s devastated babbling was that the phone call had brought news of a death. The rest was entirely incomprehensible. Carefully, Dean picked Cas up and carried him back to the bed, then sat on it, gently rocking the mourning man. All he could think to do was hum _Smoke on the Water_.

That made no sense. He was trained to deal with grieving people, and humming classic rock was definitely not part of that training. He should have had multiple other methods to handle this, but it was all he could do.

Cas hiccoughed and mumbled something that sounded like a name - ‘Berry’. A horse? It wasn’t the horse that had been injured when Cas fell. That one was named Sterling. But it was almost certainly a horse.

A nurse came in. Dean shot her a death glare. She was a bit fucking slow if she was investigating the screaming. That had finished nearly a whole minute ago.

Cas sniffled and hiccoughed again. Dean moved on from _Smoke on the Water_ to _Child in Time_. It seemed he was in a Deep Purple kind of mood.

It had been a bit of a sudden wakeup call, and he was still reeling from it. And even more so from the dream Cas had woken him from. In the dream, Cas held him, singing _Hey Jude_ like Mom used to, like he had last night. The only difference was that they were both naked in the dream.

“I’m sorry about your horse,” he said softly. He didn’t have to _like_ horses to be sad that Cas’ horse had died.

Cas didn’t say anything, but pressed his face into Dean’s chest. Dean gently ran his fingers through Castiel’s perpetually messy black hair, marveling at the softness.

“Cas?”

“Hm?” That hum was deep and husky. Dean had to make a conscious effort not to be aroused.

“I’m here.”

“I know. Stay.”

Balthazar arrived just after lunch, looking harried and exhausted.

Dean greeted him at the door to Cas’ private ward. “Hi. Dean Winchester.”

“Balt Novak. What are you doing here?”

Taking an instinctive step back at Balthazar’s hostility, Dean raised an eyebrow. “I only just got Cas to settle enough to sleep. He’s a mess, and he asked me to stay. Who am I to say no?”

“Just back off, alright? I’ve had a shit morning. I had to shoot my baby brother’s favorite horse.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that. He tried, “Sorry for your loss,” but it only earned him a death glare. “Look. Castiel lost his favorite horse this morning. He’s asked me to stay with him. I’m not going to leave because you want me to. I’d leave if he asked me to, but not before.”

Balt looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, but then his face softened. “Alright. You obviously like him, and God help him, if he’s asked you to stay then he likes you too. If you hurt him, though…”

“We’ll have to kill you,” Gabriel said, appearing around a corner with a giant coffee in each hand.

It was a more serious warning than Dean had expected. Plenty of older brothers gave that same warning, but it was usually in jest. This wasn’t joking. This was the real deal. He could only conclude that someone had hurt Cas badly in the past. Badly enough to make his brothers hostile to anyone who showed the slightest bit of interest. “Understood. No breaking Cas’ heart if I want to stay alive.”

“Good, now that’s settled, thanks for keeping him company for us.” Balthazar seemed happier now. “We can’t be away from the farm for long. Too many horses, too little time. The stablehands take care of all their care, but we have to ride them all. I don’t jump, so Gabe rides all the showjumpers Cas is supposed to be training. All three of us normally ride from sunup to sundown seven days a week. Now Gabe has twice as many horses to work.”

“Nah, not quite twice as many,” Gabe said. “Balt’s working some of the eventers. They need nearly as much dressage as Balt’s horses do.”

“I am _not_ getting on your spotted mare,” Balt said.

“I wouldn’t ask you to. She’s a bitch. Some days _I_ hate riding her. But she’ll jump anything I point her at, no matter where I put her. She’s scopey, smart, sounder than anything I’ve ever met, tenacious and nice and fast. I can put up with a little bit of crazy for a horse that wins as much for me as she does.”

“Red on right, white on left. Lunatic goes over the middle,” Balt muttered.

“Something like that. It’s more fun than you and your _horse ballet_ though.”

“Says the guy who deliberately competes in eventing so that he can do dressage as well as jump.”

Dean, of course, had no clue what they were on about. He wasn’t part of this conversation anyway, so he went over to Cas’ peacefully sleeping form, ruffled that messy black hair, and then sat down on the floor.

Listening to the Novaks banter about their horses was more pleasant than he’d expected, at least until they started quietly and playfully arguing over who had been in ‘the worst wreck’. It seemed quite plain to him that Cas would take that title, having cracked two ribs, two vertebrae and his right humerus, and shattered his left forearm.

It didn’t occur to him until he actually paid attention to the other two Novaks discussing injuries that it could get _worse_ and people still voluntarily got back on.

Horse people.

They were all either suicidally stupid, or just plain suicidal.

He was starting to learn that Cas was lucky. Sterling had fallen and rolled over the top of him, and he only had a few broken bones. That type of fall, Gabriel argued to Balt, was very often deadly, and therefore, Gabe and Cas had both had far worse falls than Balt had. It was a thing called a ‘rotational’ fall, and it only happened in jumping disciplines.

And then Balthazar came back with something Dean hadn’t expected.

“I don’t think I ever told you guys why I quit jumping. It was while I was living in New York. My horse hung a foreleg over a big Swedish oxer and got herself tangled in the poles.”

Gabe went very quiet and as white as a sheet all of a sudden. “Oh, God…”

“I don’t remember the ride at all, so this is all what Hael told me. She said it all happened in a blur and she doesn’t know the exact sequence of events, but somehow, Mia ended up on her side with two broken legs and a broken neck, and I ended up underneath her. She was dead by the time the vet got there. I was in intensive care for a month. Hael thought I was going to die.” Balthazar swallowed and blinked, then wiped a tear from his cheek. “I thought about getting back into it. I tried to, but the sight of a trot pole in my arena makes me feel sick… I set up a small  crossrail while you and Cas were at a show about a year and a half ago. Face your fears, right? I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even walk Jackdaw over it.”

“Cas let you ride _Jackdaw_?” Gabe stared at Balthazar, open-mouthed.

“He was kind of in on it,” Balt admitted. “I just didn’t want you laughing at me if I couldn’t do it.”

Dean, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer, said, “I’m shocked you ever got back on a horse. You’re all crazy.”

“It’s worth the risk,” both brothers said at once.

Dean didn’t stop thinking about that conversation all day, not even when he rang Bobby to apologize about not being able to pick up his car. He offered the gruff mechanic fifty bucks to go over Baby to make sure everything had been reconnected properly and then, when Bobby agreed, rang Sam to ask him to pick the car up.

Sam had never been allowed to drive Dean’s Baby unsupervised before.

He couldn’t concentrate on his car for long enough to be worried about that. His mind kept slipping back to horses, and how every horse person insisted it was worth the risk.

Dean liked looking at horses. He didn’t like getting too near them, though. He’d only ridden a horse once, and it had gotten free of its handler and taken off across the field with him clinging on for dear life, only to be flung into a post and rail fence when the little asshole hit the brakes.

He didn’t like horses and horses didn’t like him.

But the more he thought about it, the less certain he was. On the one hand, they were so big and so heavy they could kill someone completely by accident - and some of them were mean enough to do it on purpose. But on the other, all three Novaks got that faraway look in their eyes when they were discussing their animals. Like the only place they ever wanted to be was on a horse’s back. Or being thrown from one. Or whatever.

When the doctor walked in, he gently woke Cas, then excused himself, saying he was starving. He really just wanted to give Cas some privacy so he could talk to his doctor without having to worry about what anyone would think.

Somehow, even though he wasn’t actually hungry, he ended up at the hospital staff cafeteria. He must have been on autopilot. Right as he was about to turn around and walk out again, he spotted the pie. Suddenly, he was ravenous.

Five minutes later he had an enormous apple pie in front of him.

“Tomorrow?” Cas nodded. “Tomorrow is good. The sooner the better. Can’t you do anything for my ribs and my neck so I can get back on a horse faster?”

“You need to let those heal properly, Mr. Novak,” the doctor told him. “No riding for another five weeks at least, and you need follow-up xrays then. If you’re cleared after your xrays, you’ll be able to ride. _Carefully_. If not, you’ll have to wait. You need to be careful with your neck. If you were to fall again I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t destabilize the fractures, and that could permanently paralyze you. You’d never ride again.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. No need to rub it in. I could be out for five more weeks. I could be out for months. It depends on if my body wants to behave itself and actually heal.” Cas hated it when, on the odd occasion, an injury just refused to heal. He had a few fine scars on his arms from scratches he’d gotten off a hay baler. _Scratches_. It was ridiculous. And then sometimes he healed faster than average, with less scarring than expected.

“I’ll book you in for eight in the morning. You need to fast from eight tonight. No food, no water. No matter how hungry or thirsty you are.”

Cas knew the drill. He had two titanium plates in his right leg from a big round bale of hay falling off the forklift onto him, and he had two scars on his tummy, over where his appendix used to be. One was from appendicitis surgery. The other was from an incident three years ago when Balt and Gabe had decided to see if the wood chipper could chip hardwood, even though it was only rated for pine. It couldn’t, and exploded. Cas was the only one unlucky enough to have been hit by the shrapnel. “I’ve had surgery a few times in my life, doctor. Farming accidents and appendicitis. Plus I’ve broken every long bone in my body at least twice being thrown from difficult horses. I know all about fasting.”

“I’m sure you do, Mr. Novak. I still legally have to tell you.” The doctor handed over an information sheet. Cas grimaced, scrunched it up, and lobbed it at the bin. It bounced off the edge.

“Look, I just want to get out of here. The bed is lumpy, the food is… blegh… I have nothing to do all day, and my brothers need me on the farm. Even if I can only supervise, I can still do that much.”

It was a horse farm, so they had two hay balers. One for round bales, one for squares. The wood chipper still hadn’t been replaced. Then there was the tractor with its post hole digger attachment, the forklift, and the ride-on mower. There was a lot of work to do around the farm every day, and if for whatever reason one brother couldn’t ride, it was expected that he would supervise the work.

And then, in the evening, give the riding lessons. Novak Equestrian wasn’t _just_ a horse training facility. Cas and his brothers trained riders just as often.

The doctor pursed his lips. “I would advise against any sort of work for a little while, Mr. Novak, but I doubt there’s any point.”

Cas grinned. “None at all.”

“For God’s sake, Bobby!” Dean growled into his phone. “You gossip like an old woman! He asked me to stay, and his brothers can’t visit every day. When they do, they can’t stick around long. They’re trying to run a business and their most important man is in hospital. I’m just keeping him company so he doesn’t lose his mind.”

“You keep telling yourself that. See where it gets you.”

“Bobby-”

“I’m not the only one who thinks you’re being ridiculous, Dean. Admit it. Every reason you tell me is some bullshit excuse! You could be happy, if you let yourself.”

“I don’t even like horses,” Dean protested. “Where the hell would I factor into his life? It’s a horse farm. Everyone on a farm does his or her part. And I can’t stand horses so what the fuck kind of farm work do you expect me to do on a _horse_ farm? Yeah, okay, fine, I like the guy. But we’ve got nothing in common except classic music.”

“Damn it, Dean!”

There was chemistry, but Dean wasn’t going to admit that. He didn’t have a clue whether Cas felt it too and he wasn’t going to admit to it existing until he knew one way or the other. “I’m going now. Tell Sammy he can fix whatever he wants for dinner, ‘cause I won’t be home to complain about his rabbit food.”

“Dean-”

Dean hung up, glared at his phone for a while, then turned the thing off. Cas was probably well and truly finished with the doctor by now. Time to head back.

Cas had people with him when Dean returned. People Dean didn’t know, which for some reason made him a little suspicious. There was a gorgeous blonde girl there who looked at Cas fondly and laughed at even the worst of his jokes. Dean instantly disliked her. He knew it was petty of him but he couldn’t help it. Something about her just pissed him off.

The other person there was a short guy who looked like some kind of a salesman and spoke with a British accent. There were faint hints of Scottish brogue in the man’s voice, but for the most part, he was just another British guy.

Cas noticed Dean’s presence then, and turned to smile at him. “Hello, Dean! I was hoping you’d be back. This is Jo, my vet,” he gestured at the blonde, “and one of my clients, Fergus Crowley. Call him Crowley.”

“Pleasure,” said Crowley. He didn’t mean it.

“So you’re Dean,” Jo said warmly. “Cas was telling me all about you when Crowley got here.”

Dean blushed and  glanced away. “Good things, I hope.”

“I was honestly starting to expect to see wings and a halo when I finally met you,” Jo teased.

Suddenly, Dean felt more welcoming towards Jo. He smiled back at her. “I’m no angel.”

“Oh, yes, you are, you’re a paramedic,” she said. “Wait… you were one of the medics who were there when… when Mom…”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dean said. “That was traumatic for all of us.”

She turned to Cas. “You’ve picked a good one, Cassie!”

Dean blinked, not quite comprehending Jo’s meaning.

“Yes,” Cas replied, bright blue eyes on Dean. “I think I have.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun chapter ^.^ basically wrote itself. Poor Cas is not having a good week.
> 
> Don't ask me why Dean didn't recognize Jo straight away, I have no idea.


	3. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will warn you now there is no Cas in this chapter. Do read it through properly though. Hopefully you'll laugh a few times, and there's important information in there. And Gabriel. There is Gabriel.

“Earth to Winchester,” Garth said, waving his hand in front of Dean’s face.

“Huh? What?” Dean wasn’t quite able to make his eyes focus on his friend.

“Anna wasn’t sure whether to mention it or not. She didn’t want to get you in trouble. But she said she’s been doing all the work for you two all morning.”

Dean looked at his boots. “I… I have no excuse. I guess I’m distracted.”

“Understatement of the century,” Charlie cut in, walking back into the paramedics’ lounge with just trousers and undershirt on. Her last pickup had puked on her, so she was halfway through washing and drying the dirtied part of her uniform.

“We’re just worried about you,” Garth said. “You haven’t been quite right since the weekend.”

“Who _is_ that guy?” Chuck asked. “It was just another pickup. Nothing special.”

“A stranger,” Dean said honestly. “But do you remember the Shoot for the Moon job two years ago?”

“Worse than you, apparently,” Chuck said. “It was just another job, Dean. She was a mess but it was nothing special.”

“It was for me. And Shoot for the Moon was right next door to the place we did the pickup on Sunday.” Dean grimaced. “Then there was that job the other day that we were all called to. I’m just having a bad week. I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, big boy,” Anna teased, returning from checking that everything they’d used was replaced in the rig. “You’re not ‘bad week’ distracted. You’re teenage-girl-with-a-crush distracted.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, who is it?”

“Anna!” Dean snapped, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.

“We just want to know. Whoever this girl is-”

“Guy,” Dean mumbled.

“Guy, whatever. He must be pretty special, huh?”

Mute, Dean nodded.

“You look worried.”

“He’s in surgery. Of course I’m worried.”

Chuck clapped Dean on the back. “Take the day off, Dean. You never take time off.”

“I do take time off,” Dean protested.

“That one time when you had the flu and we had to force you to leave doesn’t count,” Anna told him.

“I, uh…” He had nothing. “Fine. But I’m making up for it later in the week. Surely one of the other crews will have someone call in sick.” There was always someone who was sick. It was an occupational hazard of working with sick people all day.

“Sure you are.” **  
**

 

Dean left the medics’ lounge, his cheeks flaming. How the hell did _everybody_ know about Cas one way or another, when he wasn’t even sure of his feelings about the guy himself?

Everyone at work knew now. Bobby knew. Sam had to have his suspicions.

But hey, at least nobody had reacted to the fact that Cas was a guy. Bobby and Sam both knew Dean was bi, but the guys at work had no idea, until now.

The acceptance was more than he deserved.

He sighed and kept walking, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted. Chuck was right. He wasn’t focused enough to have lives in his hands. Not today. He couldn’t think of much other than the fact that Cas was under a general anesthetic with some orthopedic surgeon’s fingers inside his arm. There were risks. There were always risks.

And what if Cas died? God forbid, but it did happen now and then. Sometimes, when walking the line between life and death, people fell off. Dean wasn’t sure what he would do.

He was in too deep already, falling far too fast. Dean had liked Cas from the first moment he laid eyes on the blue-eyed, black-haired equestrian, but the moment that he had fallen in love was easily when Cas had somehow known to sing _Hey Jude_ to calm him down.

And with every breath, he fell farther.

His phone rang. He ignored it. It rang out, then rang again. Dean growled a curse under his breath and fished it out of his pocket.

Sam.

He could wait. Dean hit ‘ignore’ and then turned his phone off.

He’d forgotten why he hated walking through the hospital. Nurses said hello every five seconds, and nine out of ten gave him the eye. The flirting was nice. The rest, he could do without. Sleeping with nurses was complicated, and they refused to see him as anything but a pretty-boy paramedic, so it really wasn’t worth it.

Cas, though- Cas saw him as a person, not a face. If this went both ways, Dean thought, he could be very happy… but only if he didn’t have to deal with horses. He could do without that part.

Still, wasn’t it part of loving someone to make concessions for them?

Wait, when had he taken the leap to _love_?

God, he was hopeless. In love with a man he barely knew.

“How old are you, Dean Winchester?”

Dean leapt about a yard into the air. “Shit! Gabriel, for God’s sake, stop sneaking up on people! You’ll give someone a heart attack.”

Gabriel laughed and offered Dean a cup of coffee. “Why should I? It’s funny.”

Dean took the coffee. He’d have chewed the Novak out, but he couldn’t put together a decent argument, so he didn’t bother. “I’m twenty-two. Young for a paramedic, I know, everyone says that. I started out with volunteering, and I was so good at the job that they offered me a paid position.”

“I thought you looked young,” Gabe said. “Balt’s back at the farm trying to keep an angry customer from taking her business elsewhere. It’s hardly our fault her horse can’t be worked by the guy who normally rides it, and normally we’d say screw it and let her go, but that little gelding has a thing for Cas, and I don’t think anyone else could train it properly. Balt and I try, but we just can’t teach the stubborn little bastard anything. It’s hard enough trying to get him to do what we know he already knows.”

“So the horse has stopped making progress.” Dean could see where the woman was coming from. She was paying to have her horse trained, and it wasn’t getting anywhere. “Does she know Cas is in hospital?”

“Balt’s explaining that to her now. Hopefully she sees reason. If not, I feel bad for the horse. Nobody understands him like Cas does.”

“I know how he feels,” Dean couldn’t help but mutter.

Gabriel grinned at him. “I noticed.”

"Shut up."

**  
**

“Gabriel Novak?”

Dean shoved the sleeping man sitting next to him. “Gabe, wake up.”

Gabe blinked blearily. “Huh?”

The surgical intern, whose name Dean had never bothered to learn, smiled. “Mr. Novak, your brother is in recovery now. The surgery went well. There were no complications. He was a little sluggish to come out of the anesthetic-” Dean just about had a heart attack “-but he’s awake now. He’s groggy, of course. You’ll be able to see him in about an hour.”

“Damn,” Gabe joked. “He survived again.”

Dean snorted despite himself. Then he said something he had never expected to hear coming out of his own mouth. “Cas hurt himself coming off a horse, but the idiot wants to get back on. How long will he be out of the saddle?”

The intern looked unsure and a little nervous, but managed a brave smile. “I think his doctor told him five more weeks, minimum. His chart says he needs follow-up xrays then. If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Winchester, what’s your relation to the patient?”

Dean looked down at his boots. “I brought him in. I’m just doing my job.”

“Of course.”

“Winchester here is my brother’s friend,” Gabriel said. “Give yourself some credit, Dean.”

Dean stammered and turned away, blushing so hard his ears went red. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

Well put, genius.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Gabriel said to the intern.

Dean turned back around and watched the young surgeon leave. She was okay-looking but nothing special, which was why he’d never bothered with her name. Cas was special.

“So,” Gabe said, grinning, “how are we going to mess with my little brother?”

“You’re an asshole,” Dean informed him.

“I know.”

“I’m not going to be part of your pranks.”

“Aww, but it’s good bonding, and if you’re going to-”

“Keep talking. I dare you.” Dean towered over the shortest Novak, ready to beat the ever-living shit out of the guy.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’ll shut up.” Gabe paused, then grinned. “But only because if you beat me up, Cas will hate you, and then I’d have to kill you. I’d rather not.”

Dean sighed. He needed to stop getting so defensive. The fact was, he was falling _hard_ for Castiel, and that meant he was going to be included in Gabriel’s jokes and pranks. And he had to admit, Gabe was hilarious. He just wasn’t used to this. Sam was quiet and nerdy, and Bobby was too gruff for jokes. Neither would really know humor if it hit them in the face. “It’s okay. I’m just not used to your sense of humor. My brother is a geek.”

Gabe grinned. “Excellent! More prank fodder.”

“You’ll have to meet him,” Dean found himself saying. “He could do with a friend who actually knows what a joke is.”

Sam had plenty of friends. The lucky bastard was both smart _and_ good-looking. Popular. He’d been bullied in elementary and middle school, but come high school, Sammy the Moose had grown into himself.

Dean’s phone rang again. It was Sam. “I have to get this, it’s Sammy. I’ve been ignoring him all morning, and he still hasn’t forgiven me for getting drunk when he thought I knew he needed a ride. He was at his junior prom, for Christ’s sake, I thought he was gonna get laid. Nope. He wanted to come straight home and study.”

“Sounds boring,” Gabe said. “Oh well. Now I know how to mess with the geek. Hide the schoolbooks, hide the laptop, watch the hilarity.”

Dean shook his head and answered the phone. “Heya, Sammy. What’s up?”

“Jess wants me to meet her parents, Dean.”

Oh. The big one. “Sounds like you and her are getting pretty serious, huh?” He headed out into the hospital’s garden for some privacy, but Gabriel followed anyway. He cast the short guy a ‘what the fuck, man?’ look and turned his attention back to his phone. “You’ll be fine. Tell her yes. Go meet them. Dress neat, but casual. You don’t want to look like you’re making a huge effort to impress them. Be yourself. Everyone loves you. But for God’s sake, don’t bore them to death talking about loopholes in parking laws or whatever the fuck it is you’re obsessing over this week.”

“Deaaan!” Sam whined. Dean could literally _hear_ his brother’s blush.

“They’ll want to know you want to go to Stanford and study law. Remember to mention it’s corporate law you’re really passionate about. Criminal lawyers don’t have brains.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

Dean laughed. “That was what Dad used to say.”

“I don’t remember…”

“You never took much notice of his jokes.”

“He was never _around_ for me to take notice of, Dean.”

“That’s not fair. He was around as much as he could manage.” Dean remembered more about _why_ Dad was never home than Sam did. He sighed and reminded himself to be patient with his little brother. “Sammy, I’m coming home tonight. Tell Bobby I’ll make burgers… and yes, yours can have salad in it if you want. Fucking rabbit.”

“Just because I want to be healthy!”

“Dammit Sam, I know it’s good for you, but seriously. At what cost?”

“You’ll have a heart attack before you’re thirty.”

“Bullshit I will. I’m a warrior, I need to eat.”

“You’re a paramedic.”

“Exactly!”

Sam laughed. “I have to go, Jess is at the door. I’ll talk to you when you get home.”

“Later, Sammy.”

Dean hung up and looked around the garden. Plants were definitely not his thing, but he had to admit it was nice to see a bit of greenery amongst all the sterile blue and white. A bit of green that wasn’t his uniform, at least. With a glance at his watch, he decided to head back inside. He needed breakfast, and maybe another cup of coffee.

Gabriel followed after him like a lost puppy.

“What?” Dean asked him.

“I don’t know what to do for an hour.”

“Come with me, then,” Dean said with a tired sigh. “I can’t leave the hospital when I’m on call, so I know how to make hours pass here. When you’re single it’s easy. Hook up with a random nurse in an on-call room.”

Gabe stared at him. “Like in all the tv shows?”

Dean laughed. “It doesn’t actually happen. I’m just messing with you.” It _could_ happen. He had just learned early on that it was a bad idea. They all wanted him to commit. He had no interest in a relationship with someone who would put out without actually going on a date or two first. It just wasn’t worth the hassle dating someone he could sleep with without the strings.

“You're good.” ****

Dean couldn’t help himself. The cafeteria had pie again. He ordered a big slice of it - blueberry this time - and a large cup of coffee. “Milk, one sugar.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. And might I just say, you don’t need the sugar.”

“Aw, Missouri, you flatter me.” This wasn’t flirting. This was friendship that went back years, way back to when Dean was a kid.

“And what’ll your date have?”

“He’s a friend,” Dean replied, chuckling.

“You do bacon and eggs, right?” Gabriel said.

“Only for you,” Missouri told Gabe, winking at him.

“Great. Can I get a double serve of that, and an extra-large honey soy latte cappuccino? Just kidding, I want a normal coffee. Black with two.”

“Sugar, you can have anything you want.”

**  
**

“She flirts with everyone,” Dean told Gabe as they sat down to wait for their food. “Seriously. Everyone.”

“Sounded like you know her pretty well.”

“Known her since I was a kid,” Dean agreed.

“You’re lucky to have friends like yours,” Gabe said. “My family has always had money, and it can be hard to tell who’s friends with you for the sake of being your friend, and who’s just in it because you’re rich.”

“I’m lucky to have friends at all.” Dean shrugged. “My job isn’t exactly great for the social life. It’s all hands on deck on weekends.”

“On weekends? You have it easy.” Gabriel grinned. “Try having ten to fifteen horses to ride every single day of the week. For an hour each, or as long as they need it, whichever is longer. I had one fight me for three hours straight yesterday. That was one of Cas’ clients. Balt ended up riding nearly all my eventers and giving his dressage horses the day off.”

“I don’t like horses,” Dean admitted. “I like looking at them, but I don’t like getting near them.”

“Is it the size, or the dirt?” Gabe asked. “It’s usually one or the other. Sometimes it’s both. You don’t strike me as the type to be bothered by dirt.”

“I live at Bobby’s,” Dean chuckled. “Dirt doesn’t bother me.”

“Bobby?” Gabriel perked up. “Bobby Singer? He fixes our cars, the horse truck, and all our machinery.”

“He taught me everything I know about engines. I don’t trust many people with my Baby… the only people allowed in her guts are Bobby and myself.”

“What do you drive?”

“A ‘67 Chevy Impala. She was my dad’s car.”

“Nice. Cas drives a Mustang, same year. Not that he actually drives much. We’re always too busy at the farm.”

Dean was starting to realize if he wanted to date Cas, he was going to have to make more of an effort with horses. “How do you look past the fact that they could kill you by accident?”

“You minimize the risks. You learn how to handle them so that they’re less likely to hurt you, and meanwhile, you handle a quiet, careful horse that won’t freak out on you.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully. “And then?”

“You make sure you have a good teacher. You wouldn’t learn how to maintain a classic car from a cowboy mechanic. You shouldn’t learn about horses from just anyone.” Gabriel grinned at Missouri, who was bringing them their food and coffee. “Thanks, gorgeous.”

Missouri beamed back at him. “You’re welcome, sugar.”

“Anyway,” Gabe continued, “as I was saying, once you’ve learned how to handle them, there are other ways of reducing your risks. You don’t train for the public if you don’t want to get hurt. Cas said you told him you were called to Shoot for the Moon after Ellen’s accident. The horse that killed her is a rare exception. It should be shot, but someone is stupid enough to think it can be saved. Too late for that. It’s going to kill someone else. No trainer in their right mind would take that thing on after what it did to Ellen.”

Dean nodded. He still had nightmares about that job. “So there are horses that are just… vicious?”

“They’re extremely rare,” Gabe said. “It’s why if you’re going to train for people, you assess the horse before you make any promises. And you don’t train any horse until you’ve been riding so long you know how little you actually know. People get arrogant, and then they get hurt.”

Dean nodded again. He’d seen it happen. Occasionally Chuck forced him to be the paramedic on course at a horse show, and he was starting to be able to see the mistakes and decipher what happened with the worst falls. “Is it usually the rider’s fault if the horse refuses to listen?”

“It’s poor training, in most cases,” Gabe said. “So it’s the rider’s fault, or if the rider didn’t train the horse - Cas didn’t train Sterling, by the way - it’s someone else’s fault in the past.”

Dean considered that. “So most accidents are preventable?”

“Completely. We have our fair share, but we take risks we probably shouldn’t. Balt’s the oldest of us, and he’s only thirty. We don’t really have the experience to do a lot of the training we do - especially the remedial work.” Gabe shrugged. “We get by on talent and dumb luck a lot of the time. The last one that dumped me was a chronic bolter that not even Cas could handle, and he’s our specialist in strong horses.”

“Strong?” Dean wasn’t sure he quite understood that term.

“That means it pulls or runs off with its rider. Cas is the best with them because Mom bought him a really talented pony that we didn’t know was a nightmare to stop until it bolted with him. He has the most experience with bolters because of that.”

Dean didn’t want to be fascinated, but he was. “Did you fix the one that threw you?”

“Nah, Balt told its owner to take it to Old Sal. If Sal can’t fix it, no one can. It was shot, in the end.” Gabe sighed. “We don’t know why it was that bad. Ellen started it under saddle, so it was started right, and the girl who owned it is one of our students, so we know it was always ridden properly. Sal thought it was in pain somewhere, but five different vets and an equine chiropractor came up with nothing.”

“Maybe it had a tumor?” Dean speculated. People with brain tumors had a tendency to act strangely. Violently, in some cases. It didn’t even occur to him to think it odd that there were chiropractors for horses.

“Maybe. Now shut up and let me eat before the eggs go cold.”

Unsure where this sudden interest in horses had come from, Dean picked at his pie, but didn’t eat much of it. He was too busy thinking about the horse that even Old Sal hadn’t been able to stop from running away. There would be no answers now, of course, but Dean quietly wished the horse’s owner had pursued some while it was still alive. It wasn’t so much for the horse’s sake as for his curiosity’s, so he kept quiet.

His phone buzzed. It was a text. From Cas.

“Cas is awake,” he said to Gabriel. “I have no idea what the fuck he’s trying to say, but he’s up.”

The message was completely garbled. Something about Sterling and Berry, and Dean’s name, and that _might_ have been the word ‘love’ but it was so badly typed it could have been almost anything else as well.

Dean smiled and abandoned his pie and coffee. Cas was awake, if as high as a kite, and that was more important than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wrote itself so easily it's not even funny. It went easily 3400 words.
> 
> Very fun chapter despite the lack of Cas. Next one will be even better. You have high Cas to look forward to!


	4. Settling In

Cas wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming. If so, Gabe was in his dream. Unusual, but not exactly weird.

The weird part was that Dean had a halo.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize it was just the light behind his head.

“Dean,” Cas mumbled, trying not to mangle the name.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Dean murmured with a huge smile. “How you feeling?”

“Uhh… High, I think?”

That made Dean chuckle. “They said it went well.”

“There was just one little complication,” Gabe said. Cas was worried for a moment.

Until Dean turned to glare and said, “Don’t you fuck with him.”

Cas smiled and let his eyes slip closed. “Sleepy now.”

“Okay. You sleep, I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t get up to mischief,” Dean said.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Or at least, that was what Cas tried to say. What actually came out was more of a garbled groan. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard Dean say, “Love you too.”

“I don’t think he heard you,” Gabe said.

Dean shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.” He never said those words. Not even to Sammy. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say them to Cas. Possibly the fact that the guy was half-delirious? Well, whatever the reason, the words had slipped out.

He loved Cas.

He had expected that to be some kind of a huge revelation but it wasn’t. It was something that just… _was_. It was simple, clean, and _good_. He didn’t have much in his life that was this easy. He had Sammy, but Sam was a source of stress, too. Stanford was expensive and student loans wouldn’t cover it all. Dean needed to help his little brother build up a decent college fund. He had Bobby, but Bobby was a cranky old man who also needed looking after but refused to accept that fact. He had his job, but that sucked as often as it was good.

The only thing in his life that was simple, other than his love for Cas, was his car. Everything else was complicated and messy.

It was the way he’d always known it. It was chaotic, but for the most part, he was happy enough.

Okay, the happy part was a lie.

But it worked.

“-care of him?”

Dean frowned at Gabe. “Sorry? I was miles away.”

“Okay, let’s try this again. We’re really busy people. Balt and I are riding all day and when we get inside we’re stuffed. Balt’s wife Hael is pregnant so we don’t expect her to do any work, but the staff are busy, and we need someone to make sure Cas doesn’t hurt himself trying to help us out with farm work. He’ll listen to you. Can you stay in the farmhouse and take care of him?”

“Gabe, my brother-”

“Can stay too.”

“And Bobby-”

“Can look after himself, Dean! The man’s a mechanic. I’d wager he’s stronger than you.”

“Sammy needs to get to school and back every day, Gabe. He’d be a lot of extra work, and he’s too busy with school to do farm work.” Dean sighed. “Look, I just worry about them. Gotta look out for my little brother, and after everything Bobby’s done for us, I owe him the help I give him around the house and in the garage.”

“Well, we’ll work something out for that. Come on, Cas is different around you. Less tense.” Gabriel pursed his lips, thinking. “I don’t know if he’ll be happy with me telling you this, but he has nightmares. And he doesn’t when you’re with him. Just don’t say I said anything, alright? Our prank wars can get lethal.”

Dean bit his lip. “I’ll think about it, okay? Bobby wants me home as much as I can manage at least for the next couple of weeks. Sam has midterms coming up. He needs to concentrate on studying, so I’m supposed to take over his share of the cooking and the cleaning.”

“Your brother’s lucky to have you,” Gabe said. “Balt thought it was hilarious messing with me when I was in the middle of finals. Consequently, if I knew Cas had any sort of test coming up, I messed with him in the leadup. But you leave Sam to it.”

“I’m not certain he wouldn’t skin me if I did that,” Dean chuckled.

It was dark when Cas woke. No one was there, though he was certain he remembered Dean with a halo telling him that he loved him.

Probably just a morphine dream. They could be really freaking weird.

Carefully, he rolled over, to take the pressure off his cracked ribs. That put pressure on his shoulder, but he was okay with that. A hairline fracture was nothing much, and with the amount of morphine he was on, the only thing that hurt at all was his shattered left forearm. Which was much more together now. He couldn’t wait to see how much metal they’d put into him. Enough to set off the metal detectors at every airport he went to?

_Imagine explaining that_ , he thought with a soft, amused chuckle. _Sorry, sir. It’s just my arm. I have more metal than I do bone in there_. And then, of course, he would have to be frisked anyway.

That led to a brief fantasy about Dean as an airport security officer, leading Cas into an interview room for a strip search. Cas giggled like a schoolgirl. Strip searches, as far as he was aware, involved people taking their own clothes off, but his imagination insisted on having Dean take his off. Apparently his mind was stubborn and didn’t care about factual accuracy.

Christ, nothing turned his legs and insides to mush quite like those green eyes, and the freckles scattered across Dean’s cheeks, and oh _God_ his smile and the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes… Dean’s toned, lean body in that dark green paramedic’s uniform…

He needed to stop that train of thought. Those mental images went straight to his crotch, and that wasn’t a good thing when actually doing something about that was such a terrible idea. Jerking himself off seemed simple enough a task one-handed, but he knew from experience that it wasn’t always what it looked on the surface.

“You’re just so _hot_ ,” he groaned aloud, wishing Dean was with him.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t get Dean out of his head. When he finally managed to drift back to sleep, it was with a raging hard-on he just couldn’t get rid of.

It was a couple of days before the doctor let Cas be discharged. For reasons unknown to Castiel, it wasn’t his Mustang that sat at the hospital doors waiting for him. It was Dean in a beautiful ‘67 Impala.

Cas trailed his left hand lovingly across her hood as he made his way to the front passenger seat. She was gorgeous. Nearly as gorgeous as her driver.

“Nice wheels,” he said.

“She belonged to my dad. I’ve rebuilt her from the ground up twice but I never removed the little things that make her mine and Sam’s. The little army man Sammy jammed into the ashtray in the rear driver’s side door. Or was that me? And the Legos we both forced into the fan ducts. You can still hear them rattling in there when I turn the fans up.” Dean smiled fondly. “Good times.  Good memories. Sammy wanted me to get rid of her when Dad died, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He understands why, now.”

“That’s the same reason I keep my Mustang. There isn’t really that much point in us having cars that aren’t used for farm work or hauling horse trailers, but I can’t sell Sally. Mom loved her.” Cas allowed himself a sad little smile. “It took me a while to be able to see the old girl in that light. There were days when I couldn’t even bring myself to get out of bed. When I did, I avoided the stables and the garage… I avoided the memories of Mom.”

“What made you go back?” Dean checked that Cas was settled and his seatbelt was secure, then pulled away from the hospital. “You could have quit horses altogether.”

“Jackdaw did,” Cas said. “Jack came to us from the BLM. He was captured with a herd of Mustangs, but he wasn’t a Mustang himself. They thought he was a Thoroughbred. We still can’t confirm or deny that. Poor guy was skin and bone. They couldn’t get their truck down the old track towards the barn, so they had to unload him up near the house. I saw him and that was it. I spent every waking minute with him, bringing him back to health and then helping him through his issues. Someone obviously abandoned him. We think they did it because he was so difficult. I thought I was saving him… it’s a stupid cliche, but he was really the one doing the saving. He’s one of our lesson horses now. He jumps, but not to a high enough standard for him to reflect well on us, so he has a great life teaching beginner and nervous adults instead.”

“He sounds pretty special…”

“He is.”

Dean smiled. “After what happened to Ellen, I was ready to quit. It took a special patient to change my mind. She was a transfer - a two year old with cancer being transferred from the children’s hospital to our cancer ward because her parents wanted the best oncologist in the state and that’s Doctor Angeles. Real brave, charming little thing, she was. She didn’t even know I was thinking about quitting, but she managed to convince me to stay anyway. There’s always that one who helps you when you thought you were the one doing the helping.” The Impala turned right at the main road, instead of left.

“Uh, Dean-”

“You’re staying at Bobby’s for a week or two,” Dean said with a wide, toothy grin. “I’ll be making sure you don’t get up to any mischief and set back your healing. I have a buttload of vacation days saved up, so don’t worry about my job, I have two and a half weeks scheduled leave.”

“Did my doctor put you up to this?”

“No, your big brothers did.” Dean laughed. “Close your mouth, you’ll attract all the flies. I set up a bedroom for you. It’s next to mine so if you need anything all you’ll have to do is yell. But not too loud. Bobby’s house has thin walls. So if you _have_ to whack off, do it in the shower.”

Eyes on the road, Dean completely missed Cas’ blush.

“By brothers, you mean Gabe, don’t you?” Cas asked instead of responding to anything else.

“Of course.”

“Dean…?”

“Yeah?”

By now the Impala was speeding down the highway, going well over the speed limit, and Dean clearly expected Cas to comment on the speed. He had no plans of doing that. “You said something on Saturday, after my surgery, as I was drifting off to sleep. I was trying to tell you I love you.”

“I know.”

“What did you say? I need to know, Dean…”

“You idiot, what do people who lo-” Dean choked on the word, but forced it out anyway, “love you respond to that with?”

Cas didn’t care that they’d barely made it to Bobby’s in one piece. He was on top of the world. Dean loved him. And his brothers thought Dean was great, which was always a good sign. They hadn’t liked Raphael, and look where ignoring them had gotten him…

If he could get Dean near Jackdaw, he would know for sure if he could trust this guy. Jack was the best judge of character Cas had ever known.

An eighteen-year-old boy came running out the front door to greet them. That had to be Sam. All long legs, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, collar-length hair, and even, symmetrical features. Despite the enormous difference in body type - and height - between the brothers, Cas could clearly see the resemblance.

“Hello, Sam. My name is Castiel,” he said, extending a hand.

Sam took it, shaking it vigorously. The boy had quite a grip. “Great to meet you, Castiel. Dean doesn’t shut up about you.”

“That’s sarcasm,” Dean interrupted. “Let’s get inside, I promised Bobby I’d make lasagne tonight.”

“Lasagne?” Sam protested.

“You can have salad with yours,” Dean replied. “Cas, are you a health freak like my brother, or can you handle a slightly more carnivorous diet?”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll eat nearly anything. I’ve been eating hospital food for over a week, and before that, Hael was trying her hand in the kitchen… her experiments were about to gain sentience.”

“Missouri does a great job,” Dean said, fake-annoyed.

“For sure,” Cas agreed. “It’s just best if you can get it fresh from the kitchen, and I somehow ended up one of the last to be fed every single meal.”

They approached the front door. Dean opened it and led the way through. Cas followed, with Sam at his heels.

“You’re late, idjit,” Bobby grumped. Dean looked appropriately chagrined, and then both broke into massive grins.

“Hey Bobby, next time you see Rufus, tell him to slow the fuck down and pay attention to red lights,” Dean said while setting up to cook the promised meal. “He nearly cleaned us up on the way here. That’s why we’re later than I expected.”

“I keep tellin’ the fool,” Bobby growled. “If he keeps that shit up Sheriff Mills’ll be drowned in paperwork for weeks.”

“Bobby has the hots for the good Sheriff,” Dean told Cas with a sly grin.

“Be quiet, boy!”

“Who’s Hael?” Sam finally thought to ask.

“My big brother’s very pregnant wife,” Cas said. “You don’t tell her no. She turns into a harpy if you do.”

Dinner was a noisy affair. Bobby and Sam discussed Sam’s studies, while Dean tried to watch a baseball game without leaving the table. Cas didn’t have much to contribute, but he felt like he belonged all the same, especially when Dean forgot all about his own lasagne to help Cas wrangle trying to eat the stuff with only one hand.

He didn’t miss Bobby’s knowing smile, or the pure delight in Sam’s eyes.

“So Cas,” Sam said, “that doesn’t look like a normal cast.”

“They used the hospital’s new 3D printer,” Dean said. “Working out how to put a cast on a broken limb is tricky when you also have an incision to worry about. That needs to be cleaned and the dressing changed every day, but the bone won’t heal properly if the cast has to come off to do it.”

“It was cool watching it being designed. They took a scan of my arm to get the inside dimensions right, then they designed it around the incision so it’d be strong, wouldn’t create pressure points, and wouldn’t be a problem for changing the dressing.” Cas smiled at Sam’s interest. “I’ve never had a cast 3D printed before, and I’ve had a lot of casts. It must be new technology.”

“Brand new,” Dean agreed. “They’ve had that printer for about three weeks.”

Cas’ neck throbbed. He had to sit on his good hand to stop himself from rubbing it. Unsure of the rules of table manners in Bobby’s house, he carefully shoveled more lasagne into his mouth and waited for someone to set the example for him. He just wanted to pop a couple of Tylenol. He had a couple of stronger options for painkillers, but he’d never liked what they did to his head, so he avoided them if he could. Tylenol would be plenty. Hopefully.

“Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a soft brace for your neck?” Dean reminded him.

“No,” he lied. “The doctor said I’ll be fine if I’m careful.”

“Cas, just wear the brace. I know it looks stupid, but it’ll help with the pain.” The gorgeous green-eyed medic was clearly not in the mood for bullshit.

“It’s hot and itchy,” he complained.

“So are riding helmets,” Sam cut in. “You wear one of those, right?”

Cas sighed. “Yes. I never ride without one. My brothers are both insane… they do dressage in top hats at shows.”

Dean grimaced. “Some of the worst accidents I’ve seen have been at dressage shows.” Then he paused. “Dressage _is_ the one where you make the horse dance, right?”

Cas couldn’t help a chuckle. He was about to get up and fetch his neck brace when Dean did it for him. “Yes, dressage is the ‘horse dancing’. It’s hard work. Takes a huge amount of discipline that I just don’t have, so I showjump. I still find myself doing a lot of flatwork, but it’s a different kind of flatwork. There’s a lot more to jumping than just galloping around the course as fast as you can.”

With light, skilful fingers, Dean fastened the soft brace around Cas’ neck. “I’m curious, but I’m not sure I want to get you started. You seem pretty passionate about your sport.”

Cas couldn’t quite hide the way his skin reacted to Dean’s touch, and his desperate attempt to stifle a soft moan resulted in a pained whimper. “I am. It’s like flying. It’s the best feeling in the world to take a talented young horse from its first steps with a rider all the way to strong and balanced and athletic enough to jump a course of up to sixteen fences all as tall as I am. Some oxers are wider than they are tall. The widest thing I ever jumped was nine feet wide… water jumps don’t count, they’re usually around thirteen feet but have no height.”

“That takes balls,” Bobby said.

“I won’t lie, sometimes you’ll be cantering up to a fence absolutely convinced that you’re just about to die. But that’s half the fun.” Cas grinned. “I’d be a bit more careful if I had kids. Balt doesn’t jump anymore because he has Hael, and now the baby, to provide for. He’s even careful which horses he’ll train. If he ended up in a bad wreck, who would look after his wife and kid? He knows Gabe and I would, but he also knows we wouldn’t give up jumping.”

Dean hummed. “Horse people are crazy.”

“More than you know,” Cas retorted playfully. “We’re the sane side of the sport!”

This side of Cas was hypnotic. Dean loved that whole-body smile and the light in those eyes. Cas had eyes that made even the summer sky look dull in comparison, and when they lit up from within, they were even brighter.

“Tell me more,” he said softly, and if he’d thought Cas looked alive before… the guy was positively radiant now.

“There’s money in jumping, so there are a lot of people who are in it to win it and have no interest in anything else. Questionable methods, questionable morals. Abuse goes on behind closed doors. Sabotage happens sometimes. I keep the horses in the truck overnight and sleep in there with them, and my tack boxes all have military-grade padlocks on them. My main rival definitely isn’t above causing an accident to knock me out of the runnings. I’ve bought horses off her before - Sterling is one of them - and they all had the same issue, hard to control to the point of being dangerous over larger fences.” Cas grinned. “But if you can get past the politics, the community is actually one of the most supportive out there. Just a couple of years ago I was only a young up-and-comer with a wildcard entry to the World Cup qualifier. At that qualifier so many top class riders came looking for me to offer me advice that I ended up winning it. Didn’t do so well at the actual World Cup, but it was a great experience. I went back last year, third in my qualifier this time, and got to the third round.”

“Wow…” Dean managed. Cas was amazing.

“I grew up around horses. Dad bought the farm just so Mom would have somewhere to keep her horse, and the numbers kind of got a little out of hand after he died.” Cas laughed. “At one point we had sixty of our own horses. Mom never wanted to teach us to ride herself, though. She paid Ellen to do that. We were brats and wouldn’t listen to her, and she hoped Ellen would haul us into line. She did that and more. Mom was talented but never had the opportunities to be the rider she could have been… Ellen capitalized on our talent.”

Dean’s eyes lingered on Cas’ bottom lip as he spoke. He was so bright and animated… “I rode a pony once. I had to supervise Sammy at some little girl’s party way back in elementary school, and I figured I’d get on and see what it was like. The little bastard broke away from its handler and ran off across the field, then hit the brakes and threw me into a fence. I broke my collarbone.”

Cas snorted. “Hahah-ow, ribs. Ponies are evil. If you can ride a pony you can ride anything. If you can’t ride a pony… don’t feel bad. They’re out for world domination, one kid at a time. Horses are much easier.”

“Until they have it out for you,” Dean said quietly.

“The vicious ones are rare, Dean. I’ve only come across one. It was the worst kind of vicious, the kind that’ll seem sweet and gentle and then come at you tooth and nail the moment you turn your back, but it’s the only one I’ve ever seen that was that aggressive.” Cas brightened again. “It was also the only one I’ve ever seen that couldn’t be helped. You should have seen Jackdaw before he settled. He was as bad as I’d ever seen at the time.”

“But he’s okay now?” Dean was a little apprehensive about asking.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Cas…”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any small ones that won’t spook or anything?” Dean fidgeted, looking at the table.

“If I was picking a horse to use to get someone who’s a bit nervous of horses used to them, I’d probably choose Lavender,” Cas said. “She’s only eleven hands high, and she’s one of the rare non-evil ponies. She’s a bit fat at the moment but when she’s in show condition she’d only be about five hundred pounds. She’s a finely built little thing.”

“Shit,” Dean said. “I’ve been called to _people_ who weigh nearly that much.”

“Of course,” Cas continued brightly, “hypothetically, if an adult were to get used to Lavender, and wanted to think about riding, I’d have to gradually get him used to bigger and bigger horses until we got to one that could comfortably carry him.”

It was about then that Dean realized Bobby had gone back to the ballgame, and Sam was nowhere to be seen. He grinned sheepishly, ate his now-cold lasagne in two bites, and stood up, collecting the plates. “Dishes time. We let them drip dry. Give me ten and I’ll show you to your room and tell you the wifi password. Assuming Sammy hasn’t changed it without telling me.”

Cas sat watching Dean do the washing up. It felt wrong sitting around and letting someone else do all the work, but every time he stood up and tried to help, Dean shot him a ‘don’t you dare’ look.

So all he could do was watch, and try not to let his eyes linger on Dean’s ass. That was hard; he wore an old well-worn pair of jeans that fit _just right_. Cas figured he wore them because they were comfortable, but they drew attention to Dean’s ass.

And it was a _fine_ ass.

The old white t-shirt Dean wore outlined every muscle in his back. Cas just couldn’t look away.

Dean turned around, front of his shirt soaked through, and Cas didn’t care that he’d been caught staring.

Dean.

Had.

Chest hair.

Just that perfect triangle of hair Cas found _incredibly_ sexy. He let out a whimper, trying (and dismally failing) to control his arousal.

“I need a shower,” he said, proud of how level he kept his voice. He stood carefully and glanced back at Dean. “Could you show me the way…?”

“Sure, no problem. Just don’t use all the hot water.” Dean grinned and did the worst thing possible for Castiel’s self-control - he gestured at his sopping shirt. “I need one too.”

Cas growled and, with his good hand, grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt. He spun the paramedic around with remarkable ease and pushed him up against a wall.

“Don’t draw my attention to that, Winchester,” he warned, voice low and husky. “It’s not good for my health.”

And then he turned away, leaving Dean breathless against the wall.

Dean caught up quickly. His cheeks were pink and the front of his jeans looked tighter than usual.

Cas quickly looked away before he could lose control again.

“Shower’s up the stairs, down the hall to the _right_ \- do NOT go left, Bobby will skin you - and it’s the fourth door on the left. Not right. Again, Bobby will skin you if you go the wrong way. Right, then left.”

“Got it.” Cas just wanted Dean to go away before either of them did something irresponsible, crazy, and probably bad for Cas’ health. “Is there any particular towel I’m allowed to use?”

“Go with the blue one,” Dean said. “It, uh, matches your eyes…”

Cas closed the distance between them with one long stride and kissed Dean softly. “Thank you.”

Then he turned away, trying to remember the directions he’d been given. Left, then right? No, no, that was wrong; that was the way that would get him skinned. Right, then left. Was it the third door? Fourth? Shit. He couldn’t remember that part.

He glanced back at Dean. That stunned mullet wouldn’t do him any good. He was just going to have to find it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE
> 
> Okay so this chapter is kind of... ridiculously long.
> 
> I blame Dean. He's the one who asked Cas about showjumping. Sorry for the infodump. If it's any consolation, Dean won't remember much of it either.


	5. I Remember Flying With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the names dropped are those of real showjumping riders, the rounds ridden and the words spoken are NOT from real competitions, and the horses used are fictional. Any inaccuracies as to the riders' attitudes are my fault and mine alone. This chapter should not be taken as an example of any rider's attitude except of course Castiel's, as he is, himself, fictional.
> 
> This is a fairly complicated, technical chapter, so if anything confuses you, feel free to ask me to clarify. I have no problem with explaining and as mentioned in an earlier chapter I am not always good at remembering what non-horsey people do and don't know.
> 
> I have seen many falls like the two described in this chapter. They are accurate and do happen at all levels of showjumping, though rarely at World Cup level.
> 
> Novak's Bodacious, aka Berry, is fictional, but there are several instances of horses her size and even smaller jumping at World Cup level and even winning Olympic gold. There are no inaccuracies with her size or athleticism.
> 
> One hand is four inches, or approximately ten centimetres. Cas, at 6', is a foot and an inch taller than Berry. A horse the same height as Castiel would be eighteen hands high.
> 
> Regarding Novak Equestrian being a huge, elite, prestigious facility. It needs to be. To facilitate the training of horses and riders in three different disciplines, often all training at the same time, the boys need a correctly sized dressage arena (60mx20m) both indoors and outdoors, jumping arenas with good footing both indoors and out, and a full cross country course from the smallest of jumps to Olympic level obstacles. The horses housed there are all worth a LOT of money, so every pasture is kept in tiptop shape, and every stall is cleaned until it's sparkling on a daily basis. The fencing is the best and safest on the market (except around the hay pasture because they never have horses in there so the hay crop can grow properly) and they are proud to have a record of zero fence-related injuries since re-fencing eight years ago. In today's litigation-happy society, they do everything they can to minimize risk to the horses and riders they train. Between sponsorships and the training they do, they have plenty of cash to throw around when it comes to maintaining the farm and keeping their and their clients' investments safe.
> 
> And to have Crowley as a client, they would have to be pretty damn awesome, because when does Crowley ever employ anyone but the best?

It didn’t take Cas very long to get his bearings in Bobby’s house. It was a reasonably large house, but not as big as the homestead at Novak Equestrian. That was a sprawling mansion so large that each brother had his own ‘house’ within it. With only one kitchen and dining room, they came together for dinner, but when they were inside, they usually kept to their own section of the giant house.

After spending fifteen or sixteen hours together during the day, they needed their alone time.

But he was used to spending all day every day with his brothers, and having them visit only occasionally was a big shock to the system. Gabe had come over to drop off his laptop, and stayed for a couple of hours talking to Sam, but left (a little reluctantly) when Cas reminded him about all the horses that needed riding.

Balt hadn’t been to Bobby’s once in nearly two weeks, except to drop off a pickup that would cut out every time someone tried to drive it up a hill. He hadn’t stayed.

Cas missed them both.

It had been a week now since he’d seen Balt, and three days since Gabe’s last visit. Gabe spent most of his visits talking to Sam anyway.

There was a soft knock at his bedroom door. He jumped and glanced at the clock in the bottom right corner of his computer screen. 3:32 AM. How on earth had that happened?

“Come in,” he called out, just loudly enough for the person at his door to hear.

The door opened and Dean stepped through. He was smiling, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Hey, Cas. Can’t sleep?”

“Didn’t realize how late it’s getting,” Cas replied, setting his laptop aside. “I was just watching last year’s world cup on youtube. This year’s is in four days… Gabe will be getting ready to leave for it now so the horses have a day to settle once he gets there. He begged them to allow a late rider change so Crowley’s mare could still go. I have two horses of my own entered as well… they allowed a rider change for them, too, which is more than we expected, so this year I’ll get to watch my horses compete. I’ve never done that before.”

“Can I join you? You were there, right? So I’ll get to see you ride?”

Cas nodded. “I’m in two riders’ time, on the little chestnut mare, Novak’s Bodacious. Gabe named her… I just called her Berry. You’ll see why she was my favorite.” He pulled his computer back onto his lap and shifted over so Dean would fit on the bed too. “I’ll provide a running commentary on each ride… I can’t keep my mouth shut and I can’t help critiquing. Ellen taught me to always critique every ride I watch, because each one will teach me something.”

“That’s okay, maybe I’ll learn something from it too,” Dean said, flopping down beside Cas and then moving to prop his head and shoulders up with pillows. “And it’s something to occupy my mind.”

Cas nodded. He figured if Dean wanted to talk, he would. Then he pressed play. “This is Rodrigo Pessoa. He’s one of the top riders on the planet. Better than me by a long way.”

Dean hummed. “That’s a big horse.”

“He was on a mare that was over seventeen hands high. Biggest horse there. Most showjumpers are between fifteen and sixteen hands. It’s eventers that tend to be huge.” Pessoa was on approach to his first fence. Cas touched his computer screen. “Watch his hands. She’s a fighter, that mare, and if you watch his hands you can see her arguing with him, but nothing else changes… And watch the length of his horse’s stride. See if you can tell me where she’s going to take off.”

Dean concentrated. It was hard focusing on two things at once, but he could see Pessoa’s horse pulling against his hands. The muscles in the mare’s neck were tensed and fighting her rider. Her huge stride ate up the distance to the first fence. He put his finger on the screen. “Three. Two. One.” He was spot on with the timing but had overestimated her stride length.

“You’d get her in far too close and take the rail,” Cas said. “Try for a little more distance. He’s- oh, _nice_ , Rodrigo, so that’s where you beat me. Look at that line from fence one to fence two, not a single inch wasted, it’s beautiful. Berry was quick and agile but I couldn’t pull her around to fence two any sharper than I did because she needed a longer approach than Pessoa’s line allows.”

Dean nodded. “You didn’t watch him?”

“I couldn’t. I was warming up when he was doing his round. It’s only Edwina Tops-Alexander between him and me.” Cas pointed at a fence that wasn’t on the line Pessoa was taking. “That one gave everyone a bit of trouble. It was on a tricky line, and it was the tallest fence on course. Pay attention when Pessoa gets to it. He always takes fences like that brilliantly. Ooh! Pushing forward to fence three! Nobody else did that, nobody else was brave enough… He’s going for five strides. That’s incredible. None of us went that forward. Berry and I took it in seven.”

Fence three was a _huge_ three-fence combination. Pessoa rode up to it very forward, then checked his mare while they were in the air for a single stride to the enormous oxer in the middle, and checked her again for a single stride to the vertical at the end.

“Those are very short strides compared to the rest of the course so far,” Dean said.

“Those are standard length strides,” Cas told him. “That mare had an enormous stride.”

“It doesn’t look that difficult…”

“Rodrigo Pessoa makes everything look easy.” With a chuckle, Cas pointed out another spot where Pessoa saved time. “See the line he took to four? Everyone else went around fence eight, he ducked through the other side. That takes three whole strides off his line, and a big chunk off his time.”

Pessoa’s big mare stumbled on landing, and he was nearly thrown out of the saddle. Dean glanced away. Cas just laughed. “He’s also a master of the impossible save. I’ve only seen him fall once, when the footing slipped out from under his horse on a turn. He’s ridden some very difficult horses long-term… you learn to stick. Now watch his approach to five. That was a bitch of a line. It’s a very tight turn after it to six.”

“Is his horse going sideways?”

“Yeah, and that’s what sets him apart from the rest. He’ll push his horse over instead of turning to make a line. Watch where he sets her.”

Pessoa took his horse over the oxer dead straight at the far left of the fence, and then turned her sharply on landing, hard left, to take fence six diagonally just two strides later. From there it was a dead straight line to seven.

“Beautiful!” Cas enthused. “Six, seven, eight. That was a ten stride line and he took it in _eight_! Now watch him up to fence eight.”

Dean obeyed, leaning forward for a closer view of the laptop screen. “For such a big horse, she turns very sharply.”

“I’ve never seen a horse so big turn so well,” Cas agreed. Pessoa took his mare between two of the fences in the combination at three, then pushed her almost straight sideways to line up with fence eight. Then he let her move forward, one stride, another, and neatly over it, turning in the air for fence nine, a wall.

“She doesn’t want to jump that,” Dean said, watching the big mare slow down and shorten her stride.

“You have a good eye for their moods,” Cas commented. “She’s a subtle mare. She doesn’t pin her ears or swish her tail like most of them do when they’re a bit reluctant, and even the commentator thought Pessoa was taking an unusual approach backing her off for the wall. But watch.”

Pessoa lifted his right hand and brought his riding crop down on his mare’s shoulder hard just one stride out. She pinned her ears briefly, kicked out, but jumped anyway, just brushing one block at the top of the wall.

“Much more of a hit and that would’ve fallen,” Cas said. “That kick stole a lot of power from her back end. She couldn’t have cleared that if she was anyone else’s horse.”

“She’ll take off pretty far from fence nine,” Dean said, watching Pessoa try to push his mare forward. “Why’s it slanting one way at the front and the other at the back?”

“That’s a Swedish oxer,” Cas said. “They can be intimidating for some horses, which is, of course, why they’re used.” It was the second to last fence. “You’re right, she’s not listening to him asking her to get her ass moving. She won’t stop, he’s too good at making them jump, but she’s going to struggle to clear it from that striding.”

Pessoa finally showed a little frustration and hit his horse hard with his crop again. She leapt forward, bucked once, and took the Swedish with her ears pinned back. The back rail rattled in its cups, but didn’t fall.

“The last fence is big and airy, so after the wall and the Swedish, it looks insubstantial,” Cas said, pointing at a tall vertical. “A lot of horses took the top rail off it. It’s a fairly simple, easy fence, so there were quite a few stops at it, too. Riders get complacent and tired horses say no, because their riders give them the option to.”

Pessoa demanded a gallop from his mare, complete with another smack from the crop.

“He’s going to mess up the striding again,” Cas pointed out. “That’ll either be a close chip and take the top rail, or a hail mary leap from a stride out.”

It was the latter, and the big mare’s hind feet hit the rail from on top with a loud _bang_ that made Dean jump. Somehow, the rail stayed in the cups. Pessoa’s mare had, by some miracle, pulled a clear round out of an approach that should have resulted in a rail down.

“And that’s the best rider in the world?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“His mare is a bitch,” Cas said. “There’s no way I would ride her.”

“What happened out there?” a young lady asked Pessoa as he dismounted.

“The big girl is having a bad day,” Pessoa said with a shrug. “What can I do but make the best of what she gives me on the day? We still went clear.” He handed the mare off to a stable lad. “It’s disappointing when we perform poorly at an important competition, of course, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Cas hummed. “His attitude is a little different behind closed doors, but his PR manager insists he try to be a good sport for the cameras.”

“I’d imagine sponsors wouldn’t like a bad sport.”

“Exactly.”

The camera switched to focus on Edwina Tops-Alexander on her grey.

“I was fighting with Berry over whether or not she was going to listen when she was asked for a flying change about now,” Cas said.

“What’s a flying change?”

“I’ll show you one when I’m riding again. You know how in canter, one foreleg or the other lands last in every stride? We call that the leading leg. A flying change is where you switch the leading leg without breaking out of canter.”

“Oh, okay.”

They watched Edwina and her grey mostly in silence. Cas occasionally muttered something under his breath, usually a ‘nice’ or something similar.

Dean found himself watching Cas more than the showjumper and her grey horse, but then Cas cringed and Dean’s eyes flicked back to the screen.

The grey horse was just getting back to its feet. The rider was already up, looking confused.

“That was a disappointing fall for her. He landed easy, then bucked as she was putting her butt back in the saddle, and slipped as he was bucking,” Cas explained. “The buck threw her off balance, and that threw her clear, so she wasn’t hurt. The horse was fine too. I was kind of stunned when I was called in for my round. I was expecting about another minute’s warmup.”

“Oh,” said Dean.

“I don’t know what happened,” Edwina told the young interviewer. “He jumped fine, he landed fine. He doesn’t normally buck, and he shouldn’t have fallen like that. It’s just lucky neither of us is hurt.” She took the reins back from the person who’d caught her horse. “I’ll have the vet check him over just in case, and we’ll both be feeling it tomorrow, but he seems fine, and I’ll just have a few bruises.”

“Better luck next year.”

“Thank you.”

The camera cut to a young man on a reddish-brown horse. Dean suddenly understood why Cas had described her as chestnut. She was exactly the shade of one.

“That’s you?”

“That’s me,” Cas said with a smile, just as a box with his name, his horse’s name, his farm’s name, and the American flag came up across the bottom of the screen.

“She’s really small,” Dean observed. Cas’ feet hung below his mare’s belly, despite his legs being curled up quite tightly.

“Berry was the smallest horse there,” Cas said. “Wasn’t even fifteen hands high. I was expecting a lot of crap for that, but nobody had anything bad to say about her. A couple of people even told me that if she was as athletic as she looked, she’d give them a run for their money. Rodrigo offered to buy her.”

Dean smiled. “But you said no.”

“Of course.”

Cas was obviously at home in the saddle. He moved fluidly, with a huge smile on his face, and as his horse cantered around the ring, his lower leg was rock steady. The bell rang, and the Cas on the screen turned Berry towards the first fence.

Dean watched, rapt, as horse and rider navigated the course. It looked like a much smoother, more rhythmic ride than the other two he had watched, and the little horse jumped neatly. Somehow, she ended up squeezing two strides in between each fence in the combination, and the back pole in the big spread in the middle rattled, but stayed up.

“Was that a flying change?” Dean asked, pointing at the screen.

“Yes,” Cas said softly.

“Why did you put two strides in at the combination?”

“I didn’t. Berry did. I put her on a bad stride, and she saved it. She did that a lot… saving my ass when I made a mistake with an approach.”

Dean nodded and fell silent again. On-screen Cas approached the eighth fence on a weird line, taking Berry around the combination and then taking a looping turn to face the one they were supposed to be jumping. The little red-brown mare’s ears pricked forward and her head shot upwards. Her stride shortened, and Dean thought she was going to hit the brakes.

“She really wanted to stop, but she knew I wanted her to try,” Cas whispered.

One stride, two strides, three, and then the little mare was soaring. She tucked her legs up really tightly over the jump, and Cas’ boots just scraped over the top of it. Dean was certain Berry’s hind legs were going to take the rail off, but she kicked them up and back just in time, and then they were safely on the other side. She bucked twice, huge bucks like a rodeo bronc (which Dean had seen more than a few times, because he was usually the one sent to rodeos), but Cas didn’t move in the saddle.

“Nicely ridden by the youngster,” the commentator said. “Young Novak appeared last year on the veteran horse Kestrel. It was Kestrel’s last competition before the horse went into well-deserved retirement at the grand age of twenty years. This year, his mount is the up and coming ‘Novak’s Bodacious’, who, at eight years old and fourteen hands, three inches high, is both the youngest and the smallest horse competing here today. Twenty-four-year-old Castiel Novak describes the horse as being athletic, honest, and smart enough to get him out of sticky situations, and despite their inexperience at this level, the pair are described as serious contenders by such names as Brazil’s Rodrigo Pessoa, Great Britain’s Nick Skelton, and Australia’s brilliant Edwina Tops-Alexander, who unfortunately suffered disappointment just minutes ago when her horse fell on-course.”

On-screen  Cas approached the last fence on the course. Dean held his breath, fidgeting as he watched Berry get closer and closer to the tall upright jump. Suddenly, Berry’s eyes bugged out and she hit the brakes. The crowd went silent.

It looked like she was going to crash into the jump, but at the last minute, she launched herself up and over the fence, unseating Cas. He tumbled off over her shoulder on landing, sat there stunned for a moment, then punched the ground and got to his feet. Berry stood stock still, watching him, and Dean could have sworn the horse looked apologetic.

The camera followed them out of the arena, picking up Cas’ soft stream of praise. It only stopped when the interviewer approached.

“She really didn’t like that last fence, huh? Disappointing!”

“It’s a lot bigger than it looks,” on-screen Cas said. “She was fine until she realized how big it is. I should have been more committed to it, so she wouldn’t try to stop. It’s not her fault she stopped, and it’s not her fault I insisted she jump it from a near-standstill. I screwed up. I have no excuse for it. I should have taken her around and tried again, instead of asking her to do something there was no way I could stay on through. Some of the other riders here could do it, I’m sure, but I can’t. I know I can’t. It was stupid to try.”

“That was really my attitude, too,” real Cas said quietly. “That fall was a hundred percent my fault.”

“Come now, don’t be so hard on yourself,” someone said to on-screen Cas.

“That’s John Whitaker,” real Cas said. “He's a legend... one of the best ever.”

“Thanks,” on-screen Cas said, “but that was my mistake. Berry is a great horse. Out of my show team, she’s my favorite for a reason. Any rail, any stop, and any fall is my fault when I’m on her. I put her in a bit of a sticky situation at number three and she got us out of it. I put her in another one at the last fence, and she tried, but I couldn’t stay with her.”

Real Cas hit the pause button and closed his laptop. “She was entered for qualifiers this year, too… This year could have been our year, but, y’know… shit happens.” His voice was shaky and his cheeks were damp. Dean realized with shock that he’d been crying while watching himself ride.

“Are you okay?” Stupid question. Really stupid question. Of course he wasn’t.

“No…” Cas sniffled and tried to wipe the tears off his face.

Dean pulled the dark-haired man into his arms. He didn’t really know what to say, but what he _could_ do was make sure Cas knew he was there as a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. “You know what I learned watching that, Cas? I learned that you love your horses more than anyone else loves theirs.”

Cas’ breath hitched once, twice, then the floodgates opened. Dean rubbed his back with one hand and wound his fingers through messy black hair with the other, singing _Don’t Cry_ in an attempt to calm the beautiful, devastated man.

Cas was surprised enough to stop sobbing. “Guns ‘N Roses?”

“It’s a good song,” Dean replied. “And nearly qualifies as classic rock. I don’t see why it surprises you.”

“No, I- that’s not it, it’s just… Balt always has music playing when he’s riding, and most of the time, it’s their discography.” Cas managed a watery smile. “Thanks… Dean, I… thanks.”

Dean kissed him softly. “I don’t know about you, but I need to get some sleep.” He went to get up, but Cas caught him by the arm.

“Sleep in here tonight.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, nobody has actually criticized me for the size and prestige of the farm... yet. I'm just being careful. It was a nice farm when Cas' dad bought it, and it was only made nicer. It's one of those big elite places you just KNOW is at the absolute top of its discipline. They aren't actually at the very top YET but they're not far off it. Castiel Novak is quite well-known in showjumping circles, which we'll see later in the fic, when he's back in the saddle. Gabe and Balt are equally well-known and Balt will have exciting news in a few chapters' time, so look forward to that!
> 
> If you missed it in-story, a couple of weeks have passed since Cas left the hospital.


	6. Revelations

It would have been around midday when Dean woke to a heavy warmth beside him and an arm across his waist. He lay still for a while, wondering why Cas was in his bed, before realizing this wasn’t his room. This was Cas’ room.

Then he remembered. Last night, he’d padded out of his room, unable to sleep, and spotted the light streaming from under Cas’ door. Intending to seek comfort, he’d knocked, then entered when he was invited.

And he’d ended up watching showjumping with Cas on youtube. They had watched three rounds together. Two of them he didn’t remember very well, but every detail of Cas’ round on Berry was etched into his brain with perfect clarity.

After that, there’d been crying and singing - he couldn’t remember who did the crying and who did the singing - and then Cas had asked him to stay.

He rolled over so he could see Cas, then snorted. The guy had some epic bed hair.

The snort woke Cas, who offered Dean a sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“I don’t think it is,” Dean said, amused. “How’d you sleep?”

“Perfect. You?”

Good question. He didn’t remember any nightmares, but that didn’t mean there were none. “Well, it can’t have been a bad night if I didn’t wake you.”

Cas frowned at him, head tilted. “You have nightmares too?”

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. “Mostly about Ellen, and those kids that Alistair guy tor- hurt.” Two and a half weeks and he _still_ couldn’t say the word ‘tortured’. “They didn’t start with Ellen. Sometimes my brain will remind me where they started…”

“Hmm?” That sleepy curiosity was just too damn cute.

“Dad jumped in front of a bus to push me and Sammy out of harm’s way. That’s why I decided to be a paramedic, you know. Because I couldn’t do anything but stand there and… and watch him die. Dad was good to us. Sam resents him for being away all the time but he did the best he could. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stick around all the time, and I was plenty old enough to raise Sammy when he wasn’t there. I was fourteen the first time he left. That was only for a couple of days. By the time I was eighteen, he would leave for weeks at a time. Then three years ago, Sam and I were crossing the road and neither of us was paying attention. A bus ran a red light, and Dad didn’t even think, he just jumped in to save us. Two days later I tracked the ambulance that came and picked him up back to the hospital it came from, and asked them if they would train me to be a volunteer paramedic.” Dean was matter-of-fact about it. Losing his dad didn’t hurt anymore, but he had never quite gotten over the sight of John Winchester’s mangled body as he took his last breaths. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

“Oh, Dean…” Cas propped himself up on one elbow and reached out to touch Dean’s cheek with his other hand.

“We moved in with Bobby not long after that. He’d already sort of hovered around for a few years, raising me, helping me raise Sam. He’d said before that if anything ever happened, we could bunk at his place until we worked something else out. When Sam told us a couple of years ago that he wanted to go to Stanford, Bobby said we didn’t have to worry about finding something more permanent… or continuing to pay him rent. Saving for Sammy’s college fund was more important, and he wouldn’t have either of us kept from pursuing our dreams because of something as petty as _money_.” Bobby had given them so much. The man who had never wanted children had _willingly_ taken on two teenagers, with never a complaint or a bad word to say on the matter. Dean would forever be grateful for that.

“I’d tell you about mine,” Cas said shyly, “but it’s hard remembering… and still kind of raw.”

Some instinct told Dean that Cas had nightmares about a person. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He had a burning need to know who, but didn’t want to pry.

“His name was Raphael.” Dean had never asked, but somehow, Cas knew the question, and answered it. “I loved him… so much… so _very_ much. His older brother Ezekiel is the oncologist at your hospital.”

“And Uriel is a paramedic. I still haven’t met half the crews, because we never work the same shifts… Chuck’s the shift manager for the crews I know, and Uriel manages the other shift.” Dean hummed. “Apparently he’s a bit sleazy. Zeke is a fantastic doctor, but a right dick to all the hospital staff.”

“Raph was charming,” Cas said, eyes distant. “He was sweet and chivalrous and sensitive, and everybody thought he was wonderful. Except my brothers. I didn’t know why they didn’t like him. Now I know it was because of how he looked at me… like I was a possession, not a person.”

Suddenly furious with a man he had never met, Dean rocketed to his feet and started pacing. “What a prick! You don’t have to tell me any more, Cas, I know… I know. I’ve seen it far too many times. They always say they walked into a door, or tripped, or the cat attacked them, or some other excuse that doesn’t match the injuries they present with.”

“I used to say they were riding accidents,” Cas whispered.

“No matter the excuse, the partner’s always the same,” Dean growled. “Always worried, but not the right kind of worried. It’s like when a kid is worried he’s broken his favorite toy. Always looks at the patient in this twisted kind of way… you put it better than I could. Yeah… it’s like these asshats think they own the person they hurt.” Finally, he noticed that Cas had pulled the covers up to his chin, and was subtly trying to hide under them. His anger vanished as quickly as it had come. “Cas… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise- no, I _swear_ I will never hurt you. I will never lift a hand against you, until the end of my days.”

“It’s fine,” Cas managed. Dean could see him trembling from six feet away.

“It’s not. Look at you. You’re terrified.” Dean made himself look as small as possible and slowly approached the bed, then sat down on it. “I won’t hurt you, Cas. You can trust me. I expect we’ll fight, and that’s okay. But I’m not okay with you being this frightened because I’m angry at _someone else_. Trust me, baby, trust I won’t hurt you.”

Cas reached out a tentative hand to touch Dean’s elbow. “You’d be awesome with skittish horses, you know… just how you talk and how you made yourself small like that. I’m okay. Thank you…”

He was still shaking, and Dean couldn’t help but take his left hand (very carefully) and rub small circles into the palm with his thumb. Pulling Cas into a hug, he murmured, “I don’t see how people can do that… hurt someone they love. It’s just wrong.”

“I love you, Dean…”

Saying the words was harder when Cas was lucid. The equestrian needed to hear it, though, so Dean made the effort. Just for him. “I love you too, Cas.”

It was worth it. Pure joy broke across Cas’ face, and Dean saw the whole-body smile for the second time. He loved that smile. Resolving to make an effort to see it more often, he gently pushed Cas off him. “We need to get dressed. I’m behind on housework and I have a feeling I’ll be working tonight. I know I’m supposed to have four more days, but when you’re needed, you’re needed…”

Cas hummed. “I’m supposed to be off for three more _weeks_. I don’t want to wait that long.”

“You horse people are crazy!”

“You have no idea what you’re missing.”

Dean whistled while he worked. Both bathrooms and the kitchen were now absolutely spotless. Cleaning wasn’t his thing, but Sammy liked the place to be orderly, and Dean wanted to help his little brother focus on studies as much as he could.

Bobby was more like Dean and preferred some degree of chaos.

The house was empty. Sam was at school, Bobby was in the garage working, and Cas was outside in the nonexistent garden doing God-knew-what.

With the solitude came realization of just how completely he had bared his soul to Cas. There were things he didn’t talk about to anybody, not even to Sam. Cas knew about almost everything.

Almost. He didn’t know about Lisa… or Ben.

Yet.

It was only a matter of time before the subject came up, one way or another, but Dean had decided to cross that bridge when he came to it. There was no use stressing over it when it could be days, weeks, or even years before he had to say anything.

Who was he kidding? It wouldn’t be years. If he left it that long to mention Ben, who Lisa insisted wasn’t his son (but Dean wasn’t so sure), it would be a kind of betrayal it was impossible to forgive someone for.

Pushing thoughts of his maybe-son out of his mind, he turned his attention back to the window he was scrubbing. Cas was about fifteen yards away on the other side, sitting in a little patch of dirt that might once have had a few flowers in it.

“What are you doing?” Dean murmured, putting a little more elbow grease into cleaning a spot off the glass.

Phone in his lap, Cas sat in the only place outside that wasn’t covered in vehicle parts. It was a little patch of dirt, but it was better than nothing.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang, on speaker so he didn’t have to bother holding it up to his ear. Finally, someone picked up.

“Hello. Novak Equestrian. This is Hannah.”

“Hannah, it’s Cas-”

“Oh, hi, Cas! We’re all missing you here-”

“Hannah.” He wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter. “Balt isn’t picking up and Gabe said he’s on the road to the world cup with Crowley’s mare and my two geldings. Tell me honestly, how is the farm running?”

“Well, the staff are all incredibly busy,” Hannah said, “but Balthazar had me set up a list of jobs by order of priority. Stables first, then horses into the hot walker, et cetera et cetera. The big things are getting done. The farm’s a bit messy compared to usual because everyone’s rushed off their feet trying to keep all sixty horses in shape. Hael worries about Balthazar but he’ll be fine. The farm will be fine. It’s bad timing to have you out of the saddle, yeah, but we’re handling it.”

Cas pursed his lips. “Is Renae getting her supervised turnout?”

“I’m walking her for twenty minutes then giving her half an hour’s turnout before I go home,” Hannah said. “You know if she doesn’t return to competition soundness I want her, right?”

“Yes, I know. And how’s Sterling going?” The million dollar question.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been to his end of the barn in a week,” Hannah said, “but Gabe came inside almost bouncing off the walls at lunchtime the other day. I don’t know what had him so pleased. It might have had something to do with Sterling, it might not. Nobody could get a coherent word out of him.”

“Is Amelia still taking Jackdaw to that training show?” Cas really hoped so. Amelia was incredibly nervous around horses when she first started learning to handle and ride them, and he was hoping to show videos of her to Dean to inspire him. She’d already given permission for her videos to be used to promote Novak Equestrian, and technically, that was what Cas was planning to do...

“Last I heard she’d finalized entries. She’s doing the two foot and two foot six classes. She’ll be picking him up on Friday, camping overnight at the grounds, and riding on Saturday, if you want to watch… maybe video?”

“She wants video?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there. Tell her to find me before her classes if she wants any pointers on the course, and remind her to slap those magnets I gave her onto the sides of her trailer.”

“She said she’d already put them on,” Hannah said.

“Excellent. I might have a prospective student on my hands, Hannah… have the stablehands start getting Lavender fit again.”

“Will do. Hey, uh, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Any truth to the rumors your brothers are spreading?”

Cas blushed. “Y-yeah.”

“They think he’s good for you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Can you have Balt call me when he’s done with the horses? I don’t care how late it is. I need to talk to him. Today. Tonight. Whatever time it is when he can spare a few minutes.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite hide the edge to his voice. “It’s… kind of important.”

“Sure thing. I can ask Hael to pull him off whatever horse he’s on now…?”

“No, don’t interrupt his ride, he has sixty horses to exercise on his own until Gabe gets back.” Cas sighed. “Renae’s next checkup has to be coming up soon?”

“It was yesterday,” Hannah said. “I handled her for it. You’re welcome.”

“What did Jo say?”

“That you can start increasing her turnout in five minute increments, starting today.”

“Do that for me, Hannah… I’ll make sure you’re paid for the-”

“No.”

“What?”

“Cas, no - don’t pay me for that time. Don’t turn it into work. I love watching her… she strides out better every day. She’s getting stronger. Some days her tendon still swells up a bit but she hasn’t taken a lame step in a week and a half. Watching that… it makes the past six months worth it.”

Cas resolved that even if she _did_ come fully competition sound, Renae was Hannah’s horse now. He would tell her that when they knew exactly how sound the mare would be. “You know, Hannah, you’re wasted on secretary work. You’d make an awesome vet.”

“I couldn’t get into vet school. I flunked senior year. It’s okay, though - this job pays well and I get to be around horses. It’s perfect. Really.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Cas said. “I have to go, I think I’m wanted…”

“Okay. We’ll chat soon?”

“Soon.” It was a promise in a single word. Cas hit ‘end call’ and put his phone in his pocket, then glanced up at Dean. “Hey.”

“Hey there, Blue Eyes. You looked a little lonely.” Dean smiled at him. It was the fourth one today Cas had seen that didn’t touch his eyes.

“I don’t mind solitude,” Cas replied. It wasn’t quite a lie. He did enjoy his alone time. It was just incredibly frustrating getting this much of it.

“Well, I’m done with housework for today, so how about we hang out until I have to make a start on dinner?” Dean was trying very hard to make that look like anything but what it obviously was - a desperate cry for company - but for just an instant, his soul-deep loneliness showed.

Cas hauled himself up and shrugged out of his trenchcoat, then gently laid it across Dean’s shoulders. “Sure. We could watch a movie.”

Instantly, Dean perked up. “Any classics you feel like watching?”

“I’ve never seen _Star Wars_ ,” Cas admitted. “I want to, I’ve just never really had time.”

“That settles it. _Star Wars_ it is! Original trilogy first, you have to watch it in the order it was released or the whole story of _A New Hope_ through to  _Return of the Jedi_ is ruined.”

Cas chuckled. “You’re as nerdy as Sam!”

“Hey! It’s _Star Wars_. Come on. _Star Wars_ gets a free pass.”

“Sure it does, Dean. Sure it does.”

The only thing Cas cared about was being as close to Dean as physically possible. If he could have, he would have melted into Dean’s warm, firm chest and never moved again. And Dean held him, occasionally checking that his neck wasn’t hurting.

He got up to get more popcorn, but returned as soon as he could, to lay with one of Dean’s knees between his thighs and his head resting on Dean’s chest. He didn’t care that it was a somewhat suggestive position. It was comfortable, and it felt right.

Somewhere around half past three, a mortified Sam went past, covering his face. Cas laughed, but didn’t move.

Not until, right at the end of _A New Hope_ , a loud _bang_ startled him out of movie-credits cuddling. Bobby had come inside.

Cas scrambled to his feet, stammering and not quite able to meet the older man’s eyes. He looked anywhere _but_ at Bobby, cheeks aflame at being caught in a compromising position by his maybe-boyfriend’s almost-father.

That was an awkward thing for Cas to wrap his head around.

Thankfully, the only thing Bobby had to say was, “Why isn’t dinner on the table?”

Dean lifted his head but made no indications of intending to get up and cook. “I don’t have a good answer for that.”

“It’s okay,” Sam called from the kitchen. “I’ll have it ready in half an hour. Jess is coming for a study session tonight and I keep promising I’ll cook for her eventually.”

Dean cast a significant glance at Cas. “Yeah… we’ll eat in here. Don’t want to be stuck in the dining room with you and Jess. You’ll rot my teeth.”

“Deaaan!”

“Balls,” Bobby said. “I was lookin’ forward to real food.”

Cas smiled and crouched to change the disc so he and Dean could watch _The Empire Strikes Back_. “I feel bad for everyone who had to go years between these movies.”

“George Lucas is a master of the cliffhanger,” Dean agreed.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“I need my car… one of my students has a show on this weekend and I promised I’d be there. Could we go pick it up tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Dean said, grinning. “I was wondering when you’d start missing Sally.”

Cas flushed with pleasure. Dean had remembered his car’s name. “Thanks, hon.”

Sam mimed gagging. Everyone ignored him.

“...and leave Dean and Cas alone,” Sam said to Jess as he held the front door open for her. “They’re… busy.”

Busy cuddling, Cas thought, watching Dean’s smile widen. Dean had decided, upon learning that Sam intended to make a chia salad for dinner, that ordering pizza was a much better course of action than allowing Sam to cook for five people. The remnants of two family sized pizzas sat on the coffee table. Bobby had retreated to his study with the third.

“We’re just watching a movie,” he eventually said, though truthfully he had no idea what was going on at all. He was too busy watching Dean watch the movie.

“Yeah. Right. That’s _all_ you’re doing.” Sam’s eyes never went near the living room.

“I think it’s cute,” Jess said.

“That’s not your brother,” Sam complained.

“Alright, now shut up,” Dean snapped. “Trying to watch a movie here.”

_And I’m trying to watch your brother_ , Cas thought at Sam. _Take your own advice, kid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheltered!Sam is my favorite. For cereal.


	7. Overtired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay before you start... I'm sorry.
> 
> I didn't want it to happen.
> 
> Dean is too damn stubborn.

They were getting close to the end of _The Empire Strikes Back_ when Dean’s phone rang. He reached for it, but his fingers fell just short, so Cas grabbed it for him.

Dean took one look at the caller ID and groaned. “Chuck. This’ll be him begging me to work.”

Cas paused the movie and stood up so Dean could go outside to take the call. “Go. Answer it. Go to work. I can wait until tomorrow to watch _Return of the Jedi_.”

“Okay…” Dean stood up and went outside to take the call. “Evening, Chuck.”

“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you-”

“Damn straight.”

“And I’m really sorry to do this when you’ve booked time off until Saturday, but I really need you to come in. Just for four hours to relieve Charlie. Please.”

“I knew you’d call me tonight,” Dean muttered. “I’m a bit busy, did you try Anna?”

“She finished a double shift two hours ago, Dean. I can’t ask her to come back.”

“Huh. Fair enough, then. Charlie’s okay, right?” Charlie Bradbury was the toughest sonuvabitch Dean knew. The fact that she was a slender woman all of five foot six just made her even more impressive. If she was begging off a shift so near the end…

“She’s fine. She just had a patient attack her. She’s in the ER getting stitches and a prescription for antibiotics.” Chuck chuckled. “You should see the other guy.”

Relieved, Dean grinned. “I bet she tore him a new one.”

“Actually, an exploding lawnmower did that. And cut her arm open. She had the guy well-in-hand.”

Of all the _weird_ ways to get hurt… “Jesus fucking Christ, Chuck. Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”

“Oh, it gets weirder. Charlie will gladly tell you the story. Just get your ass down here. I’ll make sure you aren’t working until Monday after tonight. Deal?”

Dean grimaced. “You’re pretty fuckin’ lucky my date believes I saved his life three weeks ago…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The line went dead. Dean went back inside. “Charlie’s gotten hurt, so Chuck needs me just for a few hours, okay? She’s fine, she’s just busy getting stitches. I’ll be home by two.”

“Shall I wait up for you?” Cas picked at the dressing over the almost-healed surgical wound on his left forearm.

“Finish _The Empire Strikes Back_ , but don’t start _Return of the Jedi_ without me. It’s up to you, Cas…”

Cas nodded. “I’ll get my laptop from upstairs and watch some showjumping or something.”

“Okay.”

Cas couldn’t wait to see Dean in dark green again. It had been a couple of weeks, and he was a sucker for a man in uniform. It even beat the wet white t-shirt from two weeks ago.

He bit his bottom lip, watching Dean’s jeans-clad ass as the paramedic walked away and then started up the stairs.

Tearing his eyes away, he pressed ‘play’.

The end credits were rolling before Dean came back downstairs. Cas looked up the instant he heard Dean’s boots reach the bottom step.

“Stay safe, okay? I don’t want to have to wake Sam up with bad news,” he said.

“Yeah. I’ll be careful. You be careful too, you hear? No falling down the stairs or anything.” Dean offered him a forced smile.

“Dean,” Cas murmured, hauling himself up off the couch. “I’ve never fallen down any stairs, and I’ve lived in a three-story house since I was a baby. I think you have me mistaken for your moose-like younger brother.”

Dean snorted. “He still falls down the stairs sometimes. Hell, he fell _up_ them last month. That takes _real_ skill.”

“Stop stalling and go to work, Dean. I don’t need you breathing down my neck all the time. Let me have some ‘me’ time.” Cas hated being hard on Dean, but he wasn’t going to leave without being told. “You can spoil me rotten all you like when you get home.”

“Okay…”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Dean said, turning to leave. Cas smiled at the reference and let him go.

It wasn’t such a horribly long time. Four hours… it could have been much worse. It could have been twelve.

He closed the door, then went upstairs for his laptop.

Exhausted after only four hours at work, Dean wasn’t sure if he was safe to drive home. He kept almost nodding off in the shower, and then just about fell asleep in the car before he even started it.

But Cas was waiting for him, so instead of crashing on the couch in the paramedics’ lounge, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove into town to find somewhere that was still open to get some coffee.

A little voice in the back of his head told him this was a terrible idea. He agreed with it, but ignored it anyway. He just needed a caffeine hit and he’d be fine.

 _That’s what they all say_ , that little voice reminded him. It was right. Again.

 _Shut up_ , he told it. He needed to get home. Cas would be worried if he didn’t come home when he said he would. Besides, people didn’t start being badly affected by fatigue until around the seventeen hours awake mark. He’d only been up for about thirteen and a half, fourteen hours. He was good for a few more hours.

In theory.

In practice, he wasn’t so sure. His vision kept blurring and his eyes drifted shut with a constant determination that even _he_ couldn’t argue with for long.

He drifted to sleep, just for an instant, twice in the two minutes it took him to drive to the nearest drive through where he could get coffee. It was a McDonald’s, and their coffee was foul, but it was better than nothing.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. Please place your order when you’re ready.”

Well, at least the staff were pleasant tonight. This one was a young guy, probably in college. “Just give me the strongest black coffee you’ve got. I don’t care about the taste, make it so damn strong it’ll dissolve the cup. Don’t bother with sugar, that weakens it.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like any fries with that?”

“Might as well.” He wasn’t actually hungry. The thought of food was, in fact, mildly repulsive after the shift he’d just had. It was more a case of him not wanting to say no. “Make that a medium, and the coffee a large.”

“Absolutely, sir. Was there anything else?”

“That’s the lot,” Dean said. “And from a grumpy, exhausted paramedic, you have an awesome attitude. Keep it up.”

“Thank you, sir. Your total tonight for medium fries and a large, extra-strong coffee - black, no sugar - comes to five ninety-five. Please drive forward.”

Dean did so, paid, and then nearly fell asleep again waiting for his order. He snatched the coffee out of the pimply college kid’s hands and popped the lid off to scull it. Once it was gone, he cast an apologetic glance at the poor kid.

“Nah, man, it’s all good,” the kid, whose name badge read ‘Alfie’, said. “Shit of a night, huh? Same ambulance has been through to get coffee like four times in as many hours. You guys never come through this often, hey.”

“So,” Dean mused, “I’m not the only one falling asleep at the wheel.”

The shit had hit the fan early in the night, according to Chuck, and calls just hadn’t stopped flooding in. They would only hit a new level of insanity in an hour or so. It was a damn good thing there was a fresh set of crews taking over for that, because if a tired crew was suddenly flooded with more work than they could handle, things would start going wrong.

“Nah, definitely not. About fifteen minutes ago I had to call 911, hey, there was this big screaming fight in the parking lot.”

Dean nodded. “That call came through just as I was clocking off.”

“Oh, look, here are your fries. Drive safe.”

He found the energy to thank Alfie and then revved the Impala’s engine, just to show off. Alfie had been eyeing her appreciatively for the whole conversation, so in a way, it was sort of a reward for the kid, too.

Alfie whistled, then turned away, greeting some other customer.

It was at least five seconds before Dean realized what the animal standing in the middle of the road was.

“The fuck is a _wolf_ doing in _Kansas_?” he muttered, stomping on the brakes. The wolf didn’t move. The car was twenty feet from the animal and still bearing down fast. Ten feet. Dean took his foot off the brakes and swerved hard, cursing loudly. The swerve itself was okay. Baby kept traction, _just_. But then her front left tire met gravel. Adrenaline ripped through him, and he reacted without thinking. His first instinct was to hit the brakes again, turning the wheel to fight against the force of the different traction on each side of the car. He knew it was the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but he had no time to think.

Half his car had zero traction. The other half had plenty. The half with traction - the asphalt half - pulled the car into the middle of the road, so fast that the forward momentum tipped her up, then over.

Dean stumbled out of his car, fell to his hands and knees, and vomited twice into the grass. “Holy fuck. That… was too damn close.”

He should have called 911 to report the accident, but instead, he rang Chuck.

“Dean, it’s crazy here, what is it?”

“Chuck, I just rolled my car,” Dean panted hoarsely. He still felt sick from the adrenaline overload. “I’m fine, I got lucky, just a few minor cuts. I don’t need any stitches, I didn’t hit my head, I don’t have whiplash. If my heart would quit trying to jump out of my chest, I’d be great. I just need a shock blanket and a ride home.”

“I can’t spare anyone if you’re fine, Dean… but I’ll tell you what, I clock off in twenty. Think you’ll be okay for that long?”

“Y-yeah. Thanks. You’re a fucking _god_ , Chuck, anyone ever tell you that?”

“A few times. Where are you?”

“Halfway between the hospital and home, on the side of the highway.” He spotted headlights in the distance. “Someone’s heading this way… looks pretty far off. Out near Novak’s, maybe? If they stop I’ll tell them I already rang for help.”

“Sit in your car, Dean. It’s freezing.”

“Can’t,” Dean protested. “Too much adrenaline in my system…”

“Ah. Say no more.” The sound of someone else yelling came down the line. “I have to go, Dispatch just called a code red and we’re the only crew close enough.”

“Uh-huh.”

The line went dead. Dean leaned forward and was sick again.

Chuck found him sitting on the roof of the Impala, shaking so hard the entire car trembled. Dean didn’t notice the older man until he climbed up there and put one hand on the younger’s shoulder.

Dean startled violently. “Shit, Chuck, could’ve announced your presence.”

“You’re sure you’re fine?” Chuck wrapped a shock blanket around Dean’s shoulders.

“Face stings like you wouldn’t believe,” Dean complained, “but otherwise, yeah. I was… sort of falling asleep a bit. So much coffee but still not enough, did they give me fucking decaf or something?”

“Dean, look at me.”

Dean did as he was told.

“What’s today?”

“Wednesday, it's after two in the morning. I’m fine, Chuck. I’m Dean none Winchester, born January twenty-fourth, nineteen ninety-two. It’s the year twenty-fourteen. Obama is the President. I can see fine. I’m fully lucid and I never blacked out. There’s glass in my face but nothing else hurts. I’m. Fine.”

“Paramedics make the worst patients,” Chuck muttered. “Alright, come on, let’s get you back to the hospital so they can get the glass out of your face.”

“I can’t, Chuck. I’ll deal with the glass myself. I’ll get Bobby to move my car in the morning, and I’ll rebuild her again as I can find the parts. Just let me go home.” Dean wanted Cas; not the ER waiting room, not doctors, just Cas. “Please… it’s two-thirty. I promised I’d be back by two. I need to go home.”

“Alright, listen here, you little shit,” Chuck growled. “You need every last tiny sliver of that windshield taken out. Even with a goddamned _microscope_ you’d still need better light than you can get in a suburban bathroom. So you can get in the car for me to take you to the hospital, or I can call you an ambulance. Those are your options.”

Dean sighed. “Can I at least call Cas and tell him what happened?”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

It had been a very pleasant dream, and Cas was not impressed to be woken from it. He groaned, rolled over, rescued his laptop from the floor, and _then_ realized the noise was his phone ringing.

It was two-thirty-five according to the clock on the screen. And it was Dean calling him.

“Mmmh, hey.”

“Hey, Cas. Listen, I probably won’t be home tonight… I’m sorry- ow! Damn it, Chuck!”

Instantly awake, Cas sat up straight. “What happened?”

“You’re not allowed to freak out, alright? I’m fine. Cuts and bruises. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I, uh, was driving home… swerved to avoid a wild animal. Ended up half on the gravel, panicked, somehow managed to roll my car-”

“ _What_?!”

“-but like I said I’m _fine_. Chuck’s just taking me to the ER to get patched up.”

“Tell him to come get me once he’s dropped you off. Otherwise, I’m walking.” Cas put his laptop on the coffee table and stood, pacing the length of the living room and then back again.

Muffled, but audible, Dean said to Chuck, “Cas says you have to go get him once I’m at the ER, or he’s walking.”

Cas didn’t hear the reply.

“No, pretty sure he’s serious. I’ll buy you a can of Red Bull… Great, thanks.” There was a pause, and then, clearly, “He said yes.”

“Okay. Should I wake Sam?”

“No!” Dean paused, then repeated, more gently, “No. He needs his sleep.”

Sam appeared at the top of the stairs, bleary-eyed.

“Too late,” Cas said. “He’s already awake. I must’ve… I guess accidentally woken him when I freaked out…”

“Tell him, then. Don’t let him wake Bobby.”

The line went dead. Cas sat on the bottom step and patted the spot next to him. “Sit down, Sam.”

Rubbing his eyes, Sam did as he was told. “What’s happened?”

“Dean’s fine, okay? He’s been in an accident, but he’s only got a few cuts and bruises. He’s on the way to the ER to get checked over and cleaned up, and then Chuck will come and get us.” Cas had never been particularly great at this sort of thing, but Sam didn’t panic. Just looked at him.

“We should tell-”

“Dean said no.”

“But-”

“This isn’t under discussion, Sam Winchester.” Cas frowned at the teenager. “Your brother was very clear that under no circumstances are we to wake Bobby.”

“Fine. I’ll just go get dressed.”

Cas watched six feet and seven inches of Winchester drag himself back upstairs. Either Sam was far too tired to react, or this wasn’t the first time Dean had been injured.

Silence fell, and the only thing he could do to stop anxiety from taking over was to deliberately remember his last ride on Berry.

It was just an hour before that catastrophic mistake he’d made with Sterling. He had checked her girth, tightened it a hole, and then vaulted into the saddle from the ground. Finding the stirrups had taken less than a second, and then he had brushed her sides with his heels...

_Berry strode out eagerly, ears pricked. The fences set up in the arena were all five feet high or higher apart from one three-foot vertical, well away from the others. Cas half-halted to check she was still listening, then nudged her gently into trot. She tried to break straight into canter, but responded within half a stride when he resisted her forward motion, settling into a swinging trot. Cas wove her through the jumps for five minutes, then shifted his weight, taking a little more of it through the stirrups. Berry responded by jumping into a bouncy, almost cheerful canter. Again, he snaked the mare between fences, asking her for a flying change every time he turned her. Once he was satisfied that she was listening and her muscles were warm, he pointed her at the little vertical, reminded her to keep rhythm with the twitch of a finger, and let her do her thing._

_He circled her around to pop over the vertical once more, then changed direction and let her jump it twice more, before turning her left towards the first big fence._

_This week’s course was technical and challenging and asked some difficult questions of both horse and rider, but Cas knew it like the back of his hand. He’d ridden it so many times it was second nature, and the challenge for him was to remember to adjust his ride to each horse’s quirks._

_Berry, he could just leave alone. She was so familiar with her job that all he had to do was occasionally remind her to stay balanced and rhythmic, and she did the rest. It was when he tried to micromanage her that mistakes happened, and she nearly always saved him._

_Even the smallest fence in this course was bigger than Berry, if only by an inch, but she wasn’t the sort of horse to be put off by that. The biggest was the huge triple bar, which was six feet, three inches high, and probably eight feet wide. Cas had forgotten to measure it, but it was so big he left it out of the course if he wasn’t completely confident the horse he was on would even attempt it._

_Berry would try anything. And she did. Power surged through her hindquarters, building with each stride. It peaked right at the base of the enormous jump, and they soared together._

_A faint_ click _told Cas someone had taken a photo, and all too soon, his chestnut mare’s hooves touched the ground again. He offered her a brief pat, turning her for the second to last fence with legs alone._

_The last two were simple verticals, on a basic line, so he dropped the reins altogether and put his arms out like airplane wings._

_“Video this!” he called to his mysterious photographer, then promptly forgot anyone else was there. With absolutely no help from his hands, Berry took the first vertical dead straight, then cantered the three strides to the second and jumped that so easily it might as well have been two feet high, not five foot six._

_Cas brought her back to a halt, still hands-free, and then dismounted, grinning. Only then did he realize his photographer was, in fact, his amber-eyed brother. “Hey, Gabe. Get all that?”_

_“Sure did. She’s awesome, Cas. You guys’ll rock the World Cup.”_

_“Think they’ll let us do it with no bridle?”_

_“This is the FEI we’re talking about. There’s no freaking way.”_

He was smiling, but his cheeks were soaked. He bit his bottom lip and tasted salt. It took him a little while to realize he was crying.

“Cas, you okay?” Sam asked, nudging his shoulder.

“I had to shut my brain up somehow,” he replied. “The only thing that worked was digging up memories of Berry.”

Forget bear hugs - the only inescapable embrace was a _moose_ hug. Sam forced one on him, saying, “They aren’t just animals to you, huh?”

“R-ribs!”

“Sorry.”

Cas sat down on the couch. “They’re my family. I worry about them, I share my troubles with them, we share triumphs together, and it kills me when I have to say goodbye.”

An unfamiliar car pulled up.

“That’s Chuck,” said Sam. “Come on.”

That was all it took to make Cas forget all about horses. He launched off the couch and ran for the door, with Sam hot on his heels.

It was four in the morning before Dean saw a doctor, and if not for the fact that he worked at the hospital, it could have been even later. Cas had managed to keep his eyes open until the doctor sat Dean down on a hospital bed and started pulling bits of glass out of his wounds, but shortly thereafter, the equestrian fell asleep with his head resting on Dean’s shoulder.

Two hours later, the local anesthetic was wearing off, and there was still glass embedded in the right side of Dean’s face. The pile of glass in the kidney-shaped bowl was much bigger than he had expected.

“Jesus, Dean. ‘A little bit of glass’. You call this a little bit?” Sam gestured at the still-growing pile. “It’s half your windshield!”

“Not quite,” Dean replied with half a shrug - half, because if he moved his right shoulder Cas might wake up. “Maybe more like a quarter? Ow! Feelin’ it again, Doc.”

“Can you cope with five more minutes?” Doctor Murphy pulled another piece of glass from Dean’s cheek, drawing a yelp from the paramedic.

“Five minutes, yeah, sure, I can- ow! -handle that.” Anything not to look like a wimp.

“Excellent. You’re doing great-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, cut the condescending crap,” Dean snapped. “Just get the fucking glass out of my face already so I can go home and get some goddamned sleep!”

Sam looked away, but Dean saw the cheeky little shit’s amused grin anyway. He grumbled to himself until Murphy was done pulling glass out of his face - and even then, only stopped because the antiseptic the doctor swiped over his wounds stung so bad all he could do was let his breath out through his teeth in a long hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But hey at least he's okay!
> 
> Excuse any typos, continuity or grammar problems I may have missed while editing. It's now 8am, and I haven't slept. This was a BITCH of a chapter to write...
> 
> Also yes I know canon Dean’s birthdate is 1979, but that would have set this little fic in 2001 and I can't for the life of me find any info on whether wifi was commonplace in American homes then. So for this AU I kind of fiddled. I didn't want any continuity errors or lack of realism.


	8. Leap Before You Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean wanted a break from being written, so have some Balthazar ^.^

Balthazar had already been riding for a couple of hours when the ass-crack of dawn brought the staff out of the woodwork like so many ants. He only had enough time to ride each horse for about twenty minutes, so he had already established a neat little system. One horse went into the hot walker and another came out to be ridden.

It was crazy, and he had no idea how Sterling was going because he simply had no time to check on the stallion. It was the worst possible timing for Cas to be out of action, with three injured horses that needed caring for - Sterling, Renae, and one of Balt’s mares, a small black named Iggy - and the showjumping world cup, which Cas had qualified for on three different horses this year, just a few days away.

The FEI had agreed to let Gabe ride in it, but only because he was a proven competitor at the upper levels of eventing.

That left Balt to work the rest of the sixty horses, and none of those were actually getting any training, so he’d had Hannah halve the fees.

Novak Equestrian was, frustratingly, operating at a significant loss. Without Cas, it was a mess. Balt liked to think it would be the same if he or Gabe weren’t able to ride, but it wasn’t. Cas had proven himself time and time again to be the glue that held the entire farm together.

Between horses, Balt rang Cas, but it went straight to voicemail.

“Cas Novak. If you have this number, you’re from the farm, or I’m avoiding you. Leave a message.”

Balt hated that recording, and the reason behind it. Raphael Angeles, king douche. “Cas, call me. I’ll pick up this time, I swear.”

With that, he swung up onto the next horse and pushed it straight into a working trot.

Several hours later, he was on one of his own horses when Hael waddled down to the arena. In less than two strides, the eighteen hand, three inch bay gelding went from an extended canter to a perfect square halt. “Hey.”

“Zar, would you come inside and _eat_ something?” Hael begged him. “Come on. You’ve hardly eaten a thing in three days. Please?”

“I don’t have time, honey. We’re already operating at enough of a loss. If I stop exercising these horses, we’ll have to drop the fee even more.” Even with his two working pupils taking over as much of the load as they could handle, and nobody game to get on Gabe’s spotted mare, Balt still had forty horses to ride every day. It was a hell of a workload for just one person. Thirteen hours and twenty minutes in the saddle was nothing unusual. He did that nearly every day. It was the time between horses that ate up any chance of him having five minutes to grab a snack.

“Balthazar Novak, you’re going to make yourself sick,” Hael scolded him, “and then where will _I_ be? Hm? I need you. _We_ need you.” She laid one hand on her enormously round belly. “Worrying about you is bad for me and bad for the baby. Humor your pregnant wife.”

“Give me ten minutes to finish with Ash.” The moment Hael brought the baby into any discussion, it was dangerous to keep telling her no. Besides, she did have a point. She was the one supposed to be having dizzy spells, not him.

“No. Now.”

O- _kay_ then. Balt dismounted and jogged Ash back towards the stables, handing him off to a stablehand. “Have the redheaded Donnerhall filly ready for me in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir!”

He was not looking forward to that ride. Donnerhall was a sire of champions, but his chestnut daughters were horrible to train. It wasn’t through any fault of theirs, they were just stubborn and sensitive, and Balt found that temperament type the most difficult to get on with. Cas was amazing with mares of all temperaments…

_Quit dwelling on the impossible_ , he snapped at himself. Cas couldn’t help him.

“You work too hard, honey,” Hael told him, taking his hand with a bright smile. “You know you don’t have to ride _all_ of them. You could put four on the walker at a time and exercise them that way.”

That was true, but it didn’t develop the right muscles, and Balt was incredibly particular about making sure the horses in his care were exercised properly. He knew better than to argue, though. “I’ll think about putting the showjumpers on the walker. I can handle the rest.”

“There, isn’t that better? Now you only have to ride until dinner time, and you get two proper meals today.”

That wasn’t quite true. There were still forty-odd horses to work if all the showjumpers and Gabriel’s bitch of a spotted mare weren’t ridden. He’d managed to get fifteen of those worked so far. His students could handle probably ten between them. That left him with fifteen more. “No, honey, I’ll probably be riding until about eight. The most difficult horses are up next.”

“So I’ll make sure dinner is ready at eight,” Hael offered.

“You’re the best…”

Cas opened one bleary eye. This wasn’t the hospital.

It took him a while to recognize Bobby’s living room, and even longer to notice that his ear was pressed against someone’s chest.

So that thumping was a heartbeat, and the hard, heavy, warm thing draped across his lower back was an arm.

Dean.

With a satisfied hum, Cas shifted his weight. His entire left arm tingled as circulation returned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Bobby’s gruff voice greeted him.

Awkwardly, he sat up. “Um.”

“I’m goin’ back to work in a minute. Tell Dean I’ve picked his car up, so he doesn’t have to ask. And for God’s sake, wake me up next time.”

Next time? “This has happened before?”

“Not exactly this,” Bobby clarified. “Idjit hurts himself all the damn time.”

Cas was about to reply, but before he had time to find the words, Bobby was gone. For an old guy, he was surprisingly agile.

Settling himself back down on Dean’s chest, Cas examined the many tiny cuts on the paramedic’s sleeping face. It didn’t seem fair that after this weekend, they would be living in different houses again.

He sighed and turned his phone on. Within moments, it buzzed at him. Two missed calls - one from Balt, the other from Raphael. One voice mail - Balt. Some ridiculous number of facebook notifications. Numerous texts, mostly from Raph. He deleted those without reading them.

Cas decided to attend to the call from his brother first.

“You let the thing go flat or something?” Balt teased him. “I called you hours ago.”

“It was turned off,” Cas informed him.

“You never turn it off.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I was in a section of the hospital-”

Predictably, Balt interrupted him before he could explain. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Dean rolled his car. He’s fine. He was just getting bits of windshield pulled out of his face.” Cas picked at the dressing on his left arm. “I have to head in at some point tomorrow to get my stitches out… unless we still have an unopened stitch cutter in the first aid?”

“Had to use it on Sterling,” Balt replied. “You’re both okay, though?”

The anxiety in his older brother’s voice alerted Cas to the fact that something was bothering the dressage rider. “Yeah, we’re fine. What’s up?”

“It’s a mess here without you, Cas. Has been since before Gabe left with Crowley’s mare and your geldings. We’ve been too busy making sure all the horses get exercised and all the stalls are mucked out that we haven’t had time to keep the pastures as clean as we’d like. Iggy ripped her chest open again. That was late Sunday night - huge after hours charge, poor Jo had just gotten to sleep when I called her. We’re operating at a massive loss and I can’t handle all this on my own. I need you home.”

“Monday, Balt. I come home Monday. It’s not much longer now. Hang in there, you’ll be fine.” Cas was used to dealing with his brothers trying to take on more than they could handle. They kept forgetting he’d put things in place so they could keep going even if all three weren’t riding. “The staff are great. You need to let them take more of the strain off you. You’re trying to manage nearly sixty horses the same way you manage twenty. You can’t do that. We have enough staff to handle situations like this one. And for God’s sake, don’t let my working pupils slack off just because I’m not there. Get them to ride as many horses as they can handle. Same goes for Gabe’s. They should be able to get nearly all the horses ridden between them. Technically we’re still supposed to be able to operate as a training establishment when none of us is able to ride, we have enough students capable enough to train the horses we have. They’ll complain, but they’ll do it. So make them.”

“Cas-”

“No. I made these plans for a reason. I won’t have them ignored just because I’m not there to enforce them. Throw Gabe’s spotted bitch into the pasture until he gets back to work her himself, and then tell the working pupils it’s their job to make sure every horse gets worked. That frees up the stablehands and farmhands to keep the place clean like they normally do. And for God’s sake, Balt, _relax_. The farm can basically run itself. Put the fees back up to the normal charge once you’ve got all the horses being trained again.”

Balthazar was quiet for a while. Cas was just starting to wonder if he’d hung up when finally, “Okay. Yeah. I’ll do that.”

“Good. I’ll see you Monday.” Cas glanced at Dean’s peacefully sleeping face. “Uh… I’m going to ask Dean to stay with us.”

“Gabe tried that, and you ended up staying with him, but you’re welcome to try again. Just as long as you _come home_ on Monday.”

“I already said I am,” Cas huffed and hung up.

Dean didn’t stir until early evening. The first thing he was aware of was the delicious smell of smoky barbeque wafting from the kitchen. Comprehension evaded him. It was his turn to cook. Nobody had tried to wake him. And there was food cooking - _real_ food, not one of Sam’s sad excuses for meals.

The next thing that made it through the sleepy haze was laughter. Sam and Bobby… and did that deep, musical chuckle belong to _Cas_? God. As if Blue Eyes could get any hotter.

Grumbling about being awake, Dean rolled over and then sat up.

“And here was I thinking I’d have to kiss you to wake you up,” Cas teased.

“I’m not a Disney princess,” Dean retorted. “Sam, on the other hand…”

“Hey! I’m not the one with Rapunzel eyes!”

“Shut up, Sam.” He did _not_ have Rapunzel eyes. “Obviously if this is a Disney movie I’m Prince Charming, you’re the ugly stepsister, Bobby’s the evil stepmother-”

“Watch it, boy.”

“-and Cas is Cinderella.”

Cas went an adorable soft pink and stammered something about needing to concentrate on cooking. Dean stood up and walked into the kitchen, playfully shoving Sammy’s shoulder on the way.

“Aw, come on, don’t be embarrassed,” he said to Cas, hugging the equestrian from behind.

“Dean!” Cas protested.

“What? You falling asleep on my shoulder this morning was pretty fuckin’ adorable,” Dean whispered before gently nipping Cas’ earlobe.

Cas shivered in response. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“We have an audience and I’m trying to cook. Can this wait?”

Dean blinked. “Oh. Right.” He’d kind of forgotten about Bobby. Sam had fled in a hurry, but Bobby stood leaning against the pantry door, quite evidently unsure where to look. Dean stepped back and sat on the kitchen bench. “So what did you do all day while I was sleeping?”

“Slept on your chest all morning,” Cas admitted, going pink again. “Balt finally picked up the damn phone so I talked to him for a while, then I went and offered Bobby a hand in the garage.”

“Huh. As long as you didn’t push yourself too hard, Cas…”

“Bobby wouldn’t let me.”

“He was in the damn way half the time,” Bobby grumped. A fond smile broke across the middle-aged mechanic’s face. “I wouldn’t have let him do any of the heavy lifting if he _wasn’t_ still healing.”

Dean laughed. “Everyone’s always in the way, Bobby.”

“Including you. Again.” Bobby narrowed his eyes, but they were sparkling. “I moved your car back to the spot you only _just_ moved her out of.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks. I’ll have a look at her tomorrow, see what needs doing.”

“Looks like she’s not actually all that damaged,” Bobby said. “She’s running and her chassis seems fairly sound. You have a lot of panel beating to do, boy.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to find the money for parts.” That was a big relief. He’d saved quite a bit of money for Sammy’s college fund, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Bobby was helping. Stanford was just incredibly expensive. Over ninety percent of Dean’s pay went into the college fund and it still wasn’t likely to be enough.

“I should have a wreck out in the yard somewhere that you can get a new roof off,” Bobby offered. “You’ll need one.”

“Thanks.”

After dinner, Cas went straight to the DVD player and put _Return of the Jedi_ on. He had promised not to watch it without Dean, and as hard as keeping that promise had been, he’d kept it.

Dean flopped down lengthways on the couch. Cas shook his head fondly and lay on top of the paramedic.

“You’re a couch hog,” the equestrian teased, poking Dean in the ribs.

The squeak Dean emitted was _not_ human. “Not there! Not the ribs!”

“But hey,” Cas continued, pretending not to hear, “at least you’re not a bed hog.”

“That’s _you_ ,” Dean accused. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

It was a great movie. Dean was just more interesting. Cas watched _Return of the Jedi_ for five minutes here and five minutes there, but spent more time watching Dean. He tried counting freckles, but there were so many, and every time Dean moved, he lost count.

Tears welled in Dean’s emerald eyes. Cas glanced at the screen; Yoda was dying. That drew his attention for a few seconds. Then Dean hiccoughed and sniffled beneath him. No movie could compete with how cute that was.

Cupping Dean’s jaw with his right hand, Cas kissed each damp, freckled cheek, then the tip of the paramedic’s nose, and finally claimed those perfect lips in a long, slow, tender kiss.

Finally, reluctantly, Cas had to pull away. He watched Dean watch the rest of the movie in silence, trying to work out when to bring up the fact that he had to go home on Monday. If there was any chance Balt could cope without him any longer, Cas would stay longer, but there was no avoiding the fact that he was needed at the farm.

And he couldn’t quite get rid of the niggling fear that once he went home, he wouldn’t see Dean again.

Midnight rolled past. Dean lay awake in a bed that was too large, too cold and too lonely. On the other side of the wall, sleepy snuffles gave way to soft whimpers. He sighed and tried to block them out, but it didn’t end there.

It was the quiet, desperate cry of, “No, please, no, no,” that propelled him out of bed. He couldn’t just lie there and pretend Cas wasn’t having a nightmare. Not when the equestrian’s voice was that terrified. He grabbed a shirt off the floor and struggled into it, then left his bedroom, pausing for an instant at Cas’ door.

A helpless mew was all it took to make him open that door. Two long strides carried him across the room to Cas’ side. Dean sat down on the bed and stilled Cas’ flailing.

“No, don’t- don’t touch me!” Cas wailed, still asleep.

Dean had no idea what to do. Wake him up? Leave him be?

“Raph, no, please- _please_!”

Wake him up, Dean decided, resolving to rip Raphael Angeles’ head off if he ever met the dickwad. “Cas… Cas, baby, wake up, I’m here.”

“No, no, no, no no no no please no oh god no, NO!”

That last one was so loud it made Dean jump. And, thank God, Cas jerked awake.

Dean wasn’t certain that was a good thing anymore, but he pulled a shaking, terrified Cas into his arms. “It was a nightmare, honey. I’m here. You’re okay. Just breathe. It’s okay now.”

“It wasn’t-” Cas’ voice cracked. His breath came in short gasps. “It… it wasn’t a- a nightmare.”

“Then what was it, Blue Eyes?” Dean rubbed Cas’ back with one hand and stroked his hair with the other.

“M-m-memory. Dean, he- he- Raph, he-”

“Shhhh. Breathe. Take a slow breath in for me. Nice and big… Yeah, that’s it. Just like that. And let it out slowly.” Dean had quite a bit of experience helping people through panic attacks. “You’re safe, sweetheart.”

Cas’ breaths were shaky, but he wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. Dean counted that as a significant improvement.

“He won’t leave me alone… he calls me _all_ the time… I never pick up but it doesn’t stop him. He sends texts, and I don’t read them, but they just keep coming.”

“Do you keep them, Cassie?” Dean asked softly.

“No, but my phone keeps logs…” Cas hid his face in Dean’s chest.

“You can take those to the police. Sheriff Mills is great. She’ll help you get rid of him. Okay? You’re safe. If he ever tries to touch you again I’ll-”

“Dean… please… don’t talk like that. He used to talk like that…”

It took more than a little effort, but Dean reined his temper in. Sensing there was so much he didn’t know about yet, he gently said, “Talk to me, Cas. Tell me.”

“It… it started with him saying horrible things when I didn’t do what he wanted… or did something he didn’t want me to do. I stayed because I believed him when he told me there was no way anyone else could love me. Then he started hurting me… but you know about that part.”

“Mmh,” Dean agreed. “He was lying.”

“I know that now. It got worse… he could never take no for an answer. Ever. To start with, if I wasn’t… in the mood… he would _put_ me in the mood. But he got impatient with that very quickly. It didn’t take me long to learn that he made things much less unpleasant for me if I didn’t bother trying to say no…”

_Okay. Keep calm_. Dean took a deep, shaky breath in, then let it out again through his nose. “Cas… what he did to you is inexcusable.”

“I know…”

“He deserves to go to prison for it.” Dean believed Raphael deserved to be flayed alive, but kept that opinion to himself.

“I can’t… I just… I can’t, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and some Dean and some Cas and some feels because fuck your heart, that's why
> 
> No, no, just kidding, I'm not THAT much of a bitch. Cas needed to get that stuff off his chest, that's all. It happening at the very end of the chapter wasn't intentional, but you get cute next chapter to make up for it. I'm sorry. I really am.


	9. Viva la Vida, Bitch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few feels for you.
> 
> And some happy cute fluffy fluffness too.
> 
> Oh, and look, we even get started on the storyline stuff.
> 
> This chapter, man...
> 
> Something was supposed to happen that didn't end up happening this chapter so it's going to have to happen in the next one!

Cas didn’t stop trembling for a very long time. It would have been hours that he lay pressed to Dean’s side, trying to still the tremors that racked his body. Dean had tried to sing Cas to sleep, but had only succeeded in putting his own lights out.

Every time Cas thought he was finally okay, another flashback ripped through his mind. Three years, it had been since Balthazar finally put his foot down and kicked Raphael out. Cas had kicked the asshole to the curb not long after that. Despite all the time that had passed, and how stubbornly he tried to convince himself that the scars had healed, the nightmares persisted…

And now someone knew about the… the worst part.

Shit, three years and he _still_ couldn’t think the r-word.

As much as it brought the memories back to the surface, it was refreshing to know that somebody knew. _Dean_ knew, and wasn’t put off by Castiel’s scars.

Though that was still subject to change. Cas sighed into the paramedic’s warm side. When the time came for Dean to see him shirtless, he had no idea how that would go.

There were, of course, physical scars that Dean had seen and wasn’t bothered by. Cas had numerous scars on his arms and legs from farming accidents and a few surgical scars from operations that resulted from said accidents. It wasn’t the farming scars that Cas worried Dean would find ugly.

It was the burn scar.

He’d thought little of it, when it happened. It hadn’t hurt much, and didn’t look like a significant burn. Not until twelve hours later when he’d woken up in agony, with skin sloughing off where he’d been burned. He had kept it secret, on Raphael’s insistence that nobody find out how it had happened.

Until infection had set in. The fever had almost killed him. The number of times Cas had nearly died in riding accidents didn’t look like slowing its growth any time soon, but he had never come so close as he did with that terrible blood infection.

Because of the size of the burn, and the severity of the infection, skin grafting had never been discussed as an option. But nobody had told Cas how disfiguring the scar would be. It was about four square inches over his- oh.

Over his ribs.

The paramedics had cut his clothes off him.

Dean had seen the scar _then_.

“Right,” he murmured aloud. “He doesn’t care about your scars, idiot.” Finally, as first light broke, Castiel allowed himself to close his eyes. His right hand drifted up under the hem of Dean’s shirt to rest on defined abs.

The last tremor stilled, and Cas Novak slept.

The house was unusually quiet, even for a Thursday morning. Bobby’s usual banging and cursing didn’t drift from the garage to the house. Sam had turned the radio off when he left for school.

And Cas was asleep beside Dean, but not snoring or muttering.

Dean eased himself out of bed and stretched, then padded out of Cas’ bedroom towards the upstairs bathroom. The mirror didn’t paint a pretty picture. His face looked like a lunar landscape. It was probably going to scar.

“Well,” he said to himself, “that kills the pretty-boy image. Good.”

Turning away, he stretched again. Something in his back crunched. It felt so damned good that he let out a groan that really belonged in the bedroom. It was incredibly loud in the silence. He blushed and turned on the shower, stripping down while he waited for the water to heat up.

He hadn’t been in the shower for very long before the water started losing its heat. In fact, he was just lathering his hair with shampoo when he noticed the hot jets weren’t so hot after all.

“That’s the end of _that_ ,” he sighed, making a mental note to tell Bobby the water heater was dead again. He probably could have just fixed it himself, but he’d seen on _Mythbusters_ that when water heater maintenance was done wrong the things could go all Apollo 11. It wouldn’t go down too well with Bobby if the house was ruined by an exploding water heater.

The water was frigid by the time he rinsed all the shampoo suds out. Shivering, he pawed at thin air until his hand met fabric.

It was Sam’s towel, but it would do.

Five minutes later, he was in the kitchen, wearing boxers and the towel. He could have had cereal for breakfast and been done with it, but he felt like waffles.

The smell of fresh coffee drifted up from the kitchen. Cas opened one eye, then the other. It wasn’t just coffee - there was a subtler syrupy scent that reminded him of snowy winter mornings and Mom laughing while she watched a new foal find its feet.

_Waffles_. Excellent.

With a grunt of effort, he hauled himself out of bed, then tried to tame his bed hair, failed, and headed downstairs.

Dean was singing to himself. To Cas’ intense surprise, it wasn’t classic rock - it was Coldplay.

“ _I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringin’_

“ _Roman Cavalry choirs a-singin’._

“ _Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

“ _My missionaries in a foreign field._

“ _For some reason I can’t explain,_

“ _I know Saint Peter won’t call my name._

“ _Never an honest word,_

“ _But that was when I ruled the world._ ”

Cas applauded softly. Dean jumped and whirled around. “Oh! I didn’t know you were up. I was gonna go wake you when the waffles were done…”

“How did you know?” Cas asked, reaching out for Dean’s hand.

“Know what?”

“To make waffles…” He managed a half-smile. “Mom used to make them most winter mornings, and whenever one of us had a bad day, we’d wake up the next morning to waffles for breakfast.”

Dean shrugged. “I just felt like having them. How’d _you_ know to sing _Hey Jude_ to calm me down that night in the hospital?”

“It was all I could think to do,” Cas admitted.

Dean blushed and mumbled something that sounded like, “How the hell do you manage to be perfect without even trying?”

Cas ran his hands lovingly over his car, beaming. “Oh, Sally, I’ve missed you.”

“I didn’t realize she was a Shelby GT500,” Dean said from a few yards away. “She’s beautiful, Cas…”

“Isn’t she?” Cas said eagerly. “Apparently she was Dad’s car, but to me, she was Mom’s.”

“And now she’s yours.”

“Yep. Come on, come say hi. You won’t hurt her.” Cas grinned and crouched down in front of her to trace the Mustang badge with his fingers. “She drives as nice as she looks and _shit_ , she’s got some grunt.” He popped the hood so Dean could see underneath. “Just look at her…”

“Jesus, Cas, I don’t even keep Baby this clean.” Dean ran a finger over the engine. It came away completely spotless. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the time.”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t drive her much. Keeping them clean is easy when they aren’t your daily drive. She’s the show pony of our fleet. Completely impractical, high maintenance, but beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t call her impractical,” Dean hedged.

“On a farm, she is. Anything that’s not a workhorse is only worth having if there’s sentimental value. And there’s a _lot_ of that with Sally. Dad bought her brand new - she was his first and only car. And then she was Mom’s, and now she’s mine. I guess she’s kind of an heirloom.”

“My kind of heirloom,” Dean murmured.

A very round Hael made her way into the garage, with Balthazar at her side. She supported her belly with one hand. Balt supported her other elbow. Cas would have been concerned if not for their matching blissful smiles.

Truthfully, he hadn’t seen his eldest brother this happy in a while. That smile had appeared briefly when Hael had announced her pregnancy, but not since then.

Cas turfed Dean out from under Sally’s hood. “Dean, this is my sister-in-law Hael and my unborn niece or nephew. And Balt, of course.”

“Hi,” Dean said a little awkwardly.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” Hael didn’t seem affected by the awkwardness. “Cas, what did you _say_ to my husband?”

Cas shrugged. “That he needed to follow the plans I put in place and not overload himself. Didn’t expect him to actually listen…”

Balt smacked Cas upside the head. “I’m not an idiot, little brother.”

Hael smiled. “Well, he hasn’t ridden since you called him, so clearly you’ve said something right. I’ve been telling him for weeks that he works himself too hard and he needs to slow down. The baby’s due any day now. No matter how many times I tell him that…”

Cas laughed. “Tell me about it. I hope the baby turns out like you and not like him… you’ll have a hell of a time raising a mini-me Balthazar!”

“Don’t even joke about it,” Hael admonished, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly an easy child myself, you know.”

“That’s it, I’m moving out,” Cas teased.

“Hey, we need you here,” Balt protested.

“Then _you_ move out,” Dean suggested helpfully, dodging a playful swat from Cas. “Or build a little studio… Cas doesn’t need that much space.”

“You wouldn’t see that if you’d seen his part of the homestead.” Hael stuck her tongue out.

Cas responded in kind. “At least it’s not full of baby stuff that’ll be outgrown before it’s ever used.”

“It’s not my fault my mother insists on buying everything in the same size,” Hael replied cheerfully. “She’s delighted to have a grandchild on the way. And faintly horrified, on occasion. I keep telling her everyone will think the baby is hers when she’s babysitting but I don’t think she believes me.”

Balt’s phone rang. He took one look at it and bolted, without even taking the time to excuse himself. Hael stared after him, head tilted and eyebrows drawn together.

“Who was that?” Dean asked.

“Would have been Jo,” Hael said quietly.

Cas’ stomach dropped to his boots. “Sterling?”

“No, probably not. He’s doing great - even starting to put weight on his leg.” Hael frowned. “One of the stablehands told us Iggy wasn’t quite herself, so Balt rang Jo. He had a stablehand handling Iggs, but told Jo to call if she needed him… You know how he is with that mare. He’s probably overreacting.”

“Not with our luck lately,” Cas disagreed. “Could be that she’s being a bitch and Jo needs backup. Could be serious. I’d put my money on the latter, with the run we’ve been having.”

Dean looked up from admiring Sally. “We were going to grab the car and go, but I don’t mind staying a while.”

“Please do,” Hael said. “Zar’s been stressing himself out. He could really do with an extra pair of hands around the barn…?”

Cas snorted at Dean’s horrified reaction. “I’ll help out where I can, but getting Dean anywhere near a horse is going to be a challenge.”

“Well you’d be nervous around them too if you’d seen what that horse did to Ellen Harvelle.” Dean was more defensive than Cas had expected.

“Like I said, Dean, one step at a time,” Cas said gently. “Perhaps you can help me get Lavender fit. Remember me telling you about her? She’s only little.” He held a hand up about three feet, eight inches off the ground. “Only this big. Eleven hands. It’s not _that_ much more than half your height.”

Dean swallowed, then nodded sharply. “Okay. I can handle that.”

Dean stood in the middle of an empty arena, fidgeting. Just a few minutes ago, three riders on big horses had been cantering around. Cas had kicked them out, telling them to take his jumps down and use _his_ arena, and was now off fetching Lavender.

Leaving Dean to sit and stew.

Balthazar joined him, looking tired. “Relax. You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

Dean nodded. “I haven’t been close to a horse since I was a kid. It threw me into a fence and I broke my collarbone.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Balt hummed, and Dean suddenly remembered why the eldest Novak had vanished fifteen minutes ago.

“Is your horse okay?”

“The stablehand was right to call me and get me to ring the vet. She’s running a fever and her wound smells foul.” Balt sat down in the dirt. “Jo knows she has standing permission to treat our horses with the methods she thinks best, but she needed some backup. Iggy’s always been a bit… funny about having wounds played with. If she wasn’t _always_ injured it wouldn’t be such a problem, but she keeps finding things to tear herself open on.”

Dean nodded, though he wasn’t actually certain he understood. “Cas said she’d reopened a wound because the pastures weren’t as clean as usual.”

“She caught an almost-healed chest wound on a wonky fencepost,” Balt said with a frustrated sigh. “That’s the only one we can figure out. The rest, we have no idea.”

“If they’re anything like people,” Dean said, “they hurt themselves on the damnedest things. I relieved a colleague the other night who’d been injured by an exploding lawnmower, for God’s sake.”

“You’d see it all,” Balt said.

“And then some.” Dean laughed. “Right when you think you’ve seen everything, someone has a weirder accident.”

Cas reappeared with the smallest horse Dean had ever seen. Suddenly he understood why Cas called her Lavender. She was a shade of grey that was almost purple.

And she gleamed like she was made from polished stone. Dean wavered, torn between backing off and going to see if her coat was as soft as it looked.

“Want me to stick around for moral support, or leave you the hell alone?” Balthazar asked.

“I’m doing this for him,” Dean said softly, tilting his head towards Cas. “You should go tell Hael that Iggy is alright.”

Balt took the hint and left, and Dean tried not to hyperventilate as Cas brought the horse closer. Lavender’s tiny ears - seriously, they were about an inch long - focused on Dean, and she peeked at him through her forelock. And it was the damn cutest thing he had ever seen, but also one of the most terrifying.

Cas stopped her about ten feet away. Dean stood frozen. Weren’t horses supposed to be able to smell fear? But the tiny, sleek-coated horse didn’t seem to be bothered by his terror. She just stared at him curiously for a while, then shook herself and set to nosing about in the dirt on the off chance a tasty morsel was hidden under it.

“She’s a Welsh Mountain Pony,” Cas said, scratching the little mare’s shoulder. “They can be pretty naughty, but Lavender’s an angel. Take your time. I do want you to at least try touching her, but you shouldn’t feel pressured.”

How the hell did something so small manage to be so intimidating? Dean took a shaky step forwards. Lavender raised her head, and he froze, but when she just looked at him in that adorable way, he found himself starting to relax. He breathed in. “I didn’t expect this to be this… difficult.”

Cas shrugged. “Everyone has a hurdle to get past when they first start with horses. You have a big one that not a lot of people would even try to overcome, but that’s why we’re starting with Lavender. She’s little, and she’s cute, so she’s not very intimidating-”

“Bullshit she isn’t.”

“-and she has beautiful manners. She’s quite young… I bought her as a yearling. I saw her at an all-breeds youngstock show and I had to have her.” Cas grinned. “Of course she’s far too small for me to ride but I like having her around. She’s nearly four now. That’s why she’s so dark - she was born jet black but all greys get lighter with age and will usually end up white.”

“Why do they do that?” Dean wondered, so focused on Cas that he didn’t notice Lavender drifting closer.

“No one really knows for sure,” Cas said, “but there are lots of theories. My favorite is that the grey gene increases the production of pigment in the hair follicles until they stop being able to produce more, and that’s why greys that start off pale still go dark before they turn white. I don’t think it’s true, but it sounds cool.”

Dean started forward, then remembered the horse and stopped mid-stride. “How did you get so comfortable, Cas? How do you do it?”

“I grew up around horses,” Cas reminded him patiently. “I don’t remember ever being nervous around them.” He paused, then turned around to face the arena gate. “Not in this arena, Rachel!”

The girl at the gate stopped with her hand on the latch, then glanced at the giant red-brown and black horse beside her, to Lavender, to a very nervous Dean, then back at Cas. “Right. Sorry.”

Dean looked at Lavender, then at the huge horse beside Rachel. “If Lavender is eleven hands high…”

“Ash is eighteen hands, three inches,” Cas said as Rachel left with the giant in tow. “He’s the biggest horse on the property. He makes every other horse here look small.”

Dean absently rubbed Lavender’s forehead, then realized how close she was and froze with his hand still on her face. “C-Cas, what do I do?”

Cas turned back to face him. “Oh, sorry. Just give her a scratch, or a rub. She doesn’t care either way.”

Lavender’s tiny ears flickered to Cas, then back to Dean, who nervously resumed rubbing. The longer he rubbed, and the longer Lavender stood there utterly still, the more confident he found himself getting. He worked his way down her neck, getting his fingers tangled in her mane twice. Just as he reached her shoulder, she lowered her head and snorted so hard her entire body tensed. Dean scrambled backwards, then glared at Cas, who was doubled over laughing.

“Hahaha, sorry, I should have- hahah - warned you about that! That was a- hahahaha - a sneeze.”

Dean pouted. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at _her_!” Cas clarified, before breaking down in another fit of giggles.

Dean and Lavender shot him matching scowls. Dean hesitantly approached the horse again. If she agreed with him that Cas was too amused, she couldn’t be all bad.

“He really puts the ‘ass’ in Cas sometimes,” Dean murmured to the tiny purple-grey mare, scratching her between her inch-long ears, “but I think we both know he’s a pretty fuckin’ special human being, huh?”

Lavender nudged him gently with her teacup-sized muzzle. There was a lot more intelligence and compassion in her big brown eyes than Dean had expected. And when she looked at Cas, a whole lot of love.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lavender:  
> [Body type](http://i736.photobucket.com/albums/xx6/ar4984/Llew2.jpg)  
> [Color](https://img0.etsystatic.com/038/0/9469244/il_340x270.609476946_bbxb.jpg)


	10. Monday Morning, Hesitate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it's still only Thursday... at the *start* of the chapter.
> 
> I should probably place a trigger warning here. There is a NASTY accident described in this chapter. I've tried to be as non-graphic as I can while still getting the horror of the thing across but it may be confronting to some readers. Dean is a paramedic and the stark reality of the job is that they see some really horrible stuff.

“Dean.”

“Hm?” Dean tore his attention away from the tiny pair of ears he was scratching. Cas seemed nervous.

“I keep thinking about how unfair it is that my bed feels empty without you when I’ve known you what, three weeks? How do you even fucking _do_ that? And it gets worse when I think about the fact that we won’t even be in the same _house_ come Monday-”

Lavender nudged Dean, demanding he continue scratching her ears. He wasn’t aware of ever having stopped, but sure enough, his fingers lay idle on the top of her head. He resumed scratching, and the little grey sighed deeply, quite plainly pleased.

“-and I just want to spend every second I can with you, but I’ve promised one of my students that I’ll video her at a show this weekend, and it’s just so wrong that you won’t be _here_ , at the farm, to greet me when I come home- and I’m babbling. I’ll shut up now.” Cas looked down, a blush dusting his cheeks. He traced the lines of the cast he still wore.

Dean abandoned Lavender, who squealed a protest and trotted after him. He pulled Cas into his arms and kissed the tip of the equestrian’s nose. “You’re silly. I’ll come to the show with you. I’m working all day and all night Monday but how about you pick me up from work Tuesday morning and we go back to your place and talk about this then, hmm?”

“I want you to move in,” Cas whispered, so softly Dean wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

He replied anyway. “And I wanna, Cas, believe me. I do. It’s just a little bit soon.”

Cas nodded. “Yeah… I see your point. I just… I don’t have nightmares when I’m with you.”

 

Dean’s shoulders tensed and he went quiet for what felt like an age. Cas’ breath caught in his throat. He was on the edge of panic when Dean finally spoke. “Yeah, me too, Cas. Me too. We’ll figure something out, alright? We’ll talk about it on Tuesday. That gives us some time to come up with a few ideas.”

Lavender shoved her nose in between them and pushed them apart, looking from Cas to Dean to Cas again with a very huffy look on her face.

“Someone wants attention,” Cas said, laughing.

“Women, I tell you,” Dean joked. “So high-maintenance.”

Cas snorted. “I wouldn’t know.” Mom was independent, he had no sisters, Hael insisted on doing everything for herself, and he’d never been in a relationship with a woman.

“Dude, you have _how_ many mares?”

“I own two,” Cas said, “but I ride fifteen. Horses aren’t the same, though.”

Dean just shook his head. “I dunno. This one seems a lot like a chick I dated back in high school.”

 

The weekend passed far too quickly. Dean was twitchy at the horse show, with so many horses of varying sizes around, but he relaxed enough to talk to a few of the younger riders about their ponies. He wouldn’t come within ten feet of any horse over about fourteen hands, but seemed fairly comfortable with most of the ponies, even the naughty one that nearly knocked him over rubbing its head on him.

Cas was talking to Amelia about her riding on the day when he spotted Dean leaning over Jackdaw’s yard fence, scratching the black gelding’s shoulder. That was a shock. Dean hadn’t gone anywhere near a horse even close to Jack’s size.

“What was that about?” Cas asked later.

“What?”

“You took a pretty huge leap in horse size there. Jack’s sixteen hands high.”

Dean shrugged. “I liked him. I just… I dunno… felt like he wouldn’t hurt me?”

“He won’t,” Cas said. “He’s one of the safest horses I’ve ever known. I’m proud of you, you know - horses that size can be intimidating.”

“Huh.”

That was the end of any conversation about horses for a while.

 

“You know,” Cas said early Sunday morning, with his head resting on Dean’s chest, “we could try spending time at each other’s houses.”

Dean’s deep hum made his chest vibrate. “That could work. Can we keep going with exercising Lavender?”

“You don’t exercise her,” Cas protested, amused. “You spend the whole time giving her scratches. I’ll have to actually teach you about proper handling soon.”

“Mmm,” Dean said. “Hey, why are horses measured in hands?”

“It’s an old measurement,” Cas explained, smiling. “Horse people tend to be very traditional. It started a very long time ago… I don’t know exactly when. Each hand is four inches.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You’re quiet this morning,” Cas noted.

“Don’t really wanna go back to work,” Dean replied, ruffling Cas’ hair. “I like lazy days with you.”

Heat rose in Cas’ cheeks. “Me too…”

“Y’know, I’ve never spent this much time in bed with someone without sleeping with them.”

Cas’ blush deepened. “Thin walls,” he offered.

Dean laughed. “That’s partly it. But I think it’s more… you _matter_.”

Cas stammered something. Even _he_ wasn’t sure what. He cleared his throat and traced his fingers up Dean’s arm. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Really?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You deserve to be told you matter every single day.”

Cas poked him in the ribs. “Shut up, I can’t handle all this cuteness.”

“Don’t you dare.” Dean pushed Cas onto his back and pinned the equestrian’s hands above his head. “No tickling me when Sammy’s home.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Cas challenged. Dean’s easy strength and wicked grin were _such_ a turn-on… a little frightening because of Raphael, yes, but oh _god_ … the gentleness with which Dean _used_ his strength was just so...

“Nothing,” Dean muttered darkly. “Not where anyone can hear, at least…”

“Damn you.” Cas stuck his tongue out. “I have an entire wing of a very large house all to myself at the farm… and I soundproofed my bedroom-”

Dean growled and silenced Cas with a hungry kiss. He broke away briefly to say, “You shouldn’t tease me like that, Mr. Novak,” and then reclaimed Cas’ lips before they had a chance to form any words.

“Dean, can you-” Sam broke off, standing frozen in the doorway. “Oh, god, pass me the brain bleach!”

Dean broke away, chuckled, and let Cas’ hands go. “You need to learn to fuckin’ knock, Sammy.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll remember that. Can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?” Sam glanced at Cas. “Um. Alone?”

Dean slipped off the bed. “Alright. This about Jess?”

“Y-yeah… she’s turning eighteen soon…”

“Cas, I’ll be right back.”

Cas smiled and watched Dean leave the room with one hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Okay, so I gave you the talk when you were twelve… you remember all of that, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Right. There are a few other things you can’t forget ‘cause if you don’t make her happy…”

No more was intelligible. Dean’s voice became a muffled hum. Cas let his eyes slip closed and went back to sleep.

 

He spent most of that day watching Dean work on the Impala and hurriedly moving out of the way when Bobby grumbled at him. No matter where he stood, he was in the way, but it was worth it. Dean wore his oldest, most ass-hugging pair of jeans. Whenever the paramedic-slash-mechanic bent over to beat a dent out of a panel, Cas couldn’t look anywhere else.

They slept in the same bed again that night, Cas using Dean’s shoulder as a pillow. For once, neither had a single nightmare.

 

It was before dawn when Dean gently woke Cas.

“Go ‘way,” Cas groaned, rolling over.

“Honey, come on, wake up. I made you breakfast. And coffee, just the way you like it.”

“Fuck Monday,” Cas complained, still refusing to open his eyes. “Monday can go die.”

Dean smiled fondly. “Tell me about it. But I’m in uniform, baby… You do want to see that, don’t you?”

“Mmm, later.”

“No can do, I start work in an hour.”

“Ew.”

“I’ll bring your breakfast up, then.” Dean hummed as he headed downstairs, loading Cas’ plate, mug of coffee, and cutlery onto a tray. Cas was pretty fucking adorable this early in the morning.

Sleepy blue eyes and black bed hair greeted him when he returned with the tray.

“Mmmh, coffee smells good,” Cas mumbled.

“ _You_ smell good,” Dean growled. “Wish there was time for me to pin you down and fuck you senseless…”

“Plenty of time tomorrow,” Cas suggested between gulps of coffee.

“Looking forward to it, big boy.”

 

Driving away from the hospital without Dean in the car was the hardest thing Cas had ever done. Somehow, it was even worse parking Sally in the garage at home, hopping in one of the farm pickups, and driving it down to the bottom pasture to supervise the farmhands.

It was an all-day job piling up all the fallen branches and the fenceposts that had been pulled out and replaced. Cas drove the tractor for a few hours, but had to stop when his arm started bitching about the workload.

His phone rang late in the afternoon.

“Hey, Balt.”

“Cas, can you manage the whole farm on your own?” Balthazar’s voice was a little panicked.

“Of course, I’ve done it plenty of times before. Why, what’s up?”

“Hael’s just gone into labor.”

Well, that explained the panic. “Look after your wife, I can handle the farm.”

“Thanks,” Balt said, and hung up.

Cas would have liked to have been there to see his niece or nephew being born, but there was a farm to run, and he was the only one who could make sure it was done right.

“Attention, everyone,” he yelled, loud enough to be heard over the tractor and the three pickup trucks. The engine noise cut completely and all eyes fell on him. “Baby Novak has decided to choose now to come into the world. I want the property perfect as a gift to my big brother and his lovely wife. Understood?”

A shout went up.

“Good! Pass it on!”

The working pupils should have had all the horses trained by then, so Cas didn’t bother driving to the barn to check on them. The farmhands would tell them the news, if they didn’t already know. Balt spent most of his time in the barn, so there was a good chance they did.

It was well after dark before the pile of wood to be burned stopped growing. Cas handed a jerry can to Hannah. “Fitting time for the annual bonfire.”

“This baby wanted to come into the world with a bang,” Hannah agreed, throwing gasoline over the wood.

“Rachel, would you do the honors?”

Rachel had been a working pupil at Novak Equestrian since before Cas’ mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Originally, Gabe had taken over when Mom couldn’t give lessons anymore, but Balt was better qualified to train her, being a dressage rider himself, so had taken over from Gabriel upon his return from New York. She was Balthazar’s longest-running and most dedicated working pupil. Hell, she was practically family. It was only right that she light the bonfire.

“Are you sure?” Rachel asked. There was a tradition here that Cas was asking her to break - nobody who wasn’t a Novak had lit the fire in years.

“Rach, you’re my big brother’s best friend, and in the words of a wise man-” well, maybe not wise so much but definitely good “-family don’t end with blood.”

Rachel nodded, swiped the matches from their place on the hood of a pickup, lit one, and tossed it onto the gasoline-soaked wood.

With a hefty _whump_ , the entire enormous pile of kindling became a thirty-foot-high bonfire.

 

Somewhere around three Tuesday morning, Dean was asleep on the couch in the paramedics’ lounge, snoring softly with his head tilted back, when every pager in the room went _nuts_. Without an instant’s hesitation or disorientation, he rocketed to his feet and bolted for his and Anna’s ambulance.

Chuck fell into step beside him.

“What’ve we got, sir?” Dean asked, calm and professional. He felt almost like a soldier.

“Multiple vehicle pileup,” Chuck informed him. “We’re getting mixed reports. One person says five, another says seven. We’re mobilising everyone we’ve got, even Uriel’s crews. Got probable pedestrian involvement and three fatalities confirmed so far. It’s a shitstorm out there.”

“We gonna call anyone in from other hospitals?”

“Got three crews inbound, but they’ll be a while. It’s just us until about sunrise.”

“How many individuals?”

“Fuck knows. Dispatch can’t make much sense of the calls coming in.”

Dean leapt into the back of his and Anna’s ambulance. “We just gotta fuckin’ move, then!”

The scene was a mess. It was crawling with cops and firefighters already, and not even the cops could tell them exactly how many vehicles were involved. Dean was very impressed by how calmly Chuck gave orders. Despite nobody really knowing what the fuck was going on, every paramedic at the scene moved with practiced efficiency. It surprised him that Uriel didn’t even try to question Chuck’s orders - it was well-known that the two didn’t get on _at all_ and power struggles were not unusual.

He and Anna were charged with getting as many bodies - living and deceased - out of the wreckage as they could. It wasn’t pretty. Dean hauled two or three headless bodies out of the middle of the carnage, with Anna handling the one head they managed to find.

Decapitations were rare and always made him feel ill. But it only got worse.

“I can handle this one,” Anna said softly, before Dean had even spotted the corpse. He glanced over to his colleague and immediately regretted it.

_Don’t throw up. Don’t fucking throw up._ “I’m okay.” _No you’re not, you’re gonna puke. Look the fuck away, you idiot._ Turning around, Dean swallowed the nausea and forced himself to focus on getting the next patient out safely. She looked at him with glassy grey eyes. One pupil was blown as wide as Dean had ever seen, and the other wasn’t much more than a pinprick of black.

“P... plea...se… help…”

“You’re going to be fine,” Dean assured her. “I just need to check you over to make sure it’s safe to move you, okay? And then I’ll get you out and one of my colleagues will take care of you.” He carefully crawled over the shattered remnants of her car’s windshield and slipped into the passenger’s seat. “Okay, your legs are pinned. I can’t pull you straight out. Anna!”

“Yes, Dean?” Anna’s voice was a little distant. Dean heard the soft ripping noise of a zipper. Body bag, he assumed.

“Need the jaws of life for this one!”

“Okay!”

He turned his attention back to his patient. “You talk to me, okay? You have a head injury so I need to make sure you stay conscious. What’s your name?”

“L-Leah.”

“Okay, Leah. Can you feel your toes?”

She whimpered. “Yeah. It- it hurts. Please make it stop.”

Dean swallowed. Nothing was harder to hear than those four words. He couldn’t stop her pain. He could only try to make sure she stayed conscious. Keeping her conscious was vital to keeping her alive. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere… head, neck…” She paused, face screwed up in a silent scream. “Chest… back… oh god everything hurts so much!”

Dean fished through his kit for a neck brace and then carefully fixed it in place. “I know… I know. Just try to stay as still as you can, okay? We’ll get you out in a minute…”

He ended up staying with Leah for two hours while the firefighters tried to cut her car apart enough to get her out, but in the end, he couldn’t keep her awake. Her eyes slipped shut, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get her to open them again.

“Leah! Wake up! Stay with me, come on, you can do this!” He didn’t care that his voice was a little hysterical. He had to make her open her eyes again. “Come on!”

She stopped breathing. There was no room for CPR, but he tried anyway. “Come on, Leah! Come on! Open your eyes! Breathe!”

One minute passed. Two. Three. There was no heartbeat beneath his hands. His shouts gave way to sobs, but he didn’t stop trying to make her heart start beating again.

As the sun rose over the gruesome accident scene and three more ambulances arrived to deal with the survivors, Anna laid one hand on Dean’s shoulder and used the other to stop his frantic attempts to do the impossible. “Dean… she’s gone.”

Dean choked back another sob. Anna had been a paramedic a lot longer than he had. If she said someone was gone, she was right. He checked his watch. “Time of death… five forty-three AM.”

“I’m sorry… I know it’s hard losing the fighters.” Anna helped him out of the wreckage, offering him her shoulder to lean on when his legs nearly gave out. “Go back to the rig. Take a break. I’ll look after her body for you.”

“Her name is Leah,” Dean rasped. Those four words were to become a whispered litany, repeated under his breath hundreds or even thousands of times over the next hour before Chuck noticed and forced a hug on him.

That was when he broke down. Chuck helped him to one of the ambulances, where he sat with his head in his hands for quite a while.

“Do you want me to call someone?” the head medic offered.

“Cas,” Dean managed. “I need Cas.”

“Do you have his number?”

Dean pressed his phone into Chuck’s hand, mute.

“Alright. I’ll call him, then I’ll get Anna to take you back to the hospital. We can handle this mess from here… you did a great job tonight, Dean. Let me know if you need some time off… or any help to deal with this.”

Dean nodded and watched Chuck flip through his contacts. There was a dream-like quality to the world. It was just a shame he couldn’t wake up from _this_ nightmare.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sets the scene for chapter 11... otherwise I'd have left the majority of this chapter out completely.


	11. New Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW late in the chapter

It was too quiet in Cas’ bedroom. He’d grown used to the muffled but constant noise of Bobby’s house. He put music on, but it didn’t help.

He was alone in the enormous homestead. Gabriel was still at the world cup, and Balt and Hael were at the hospital with their new baby. The two working students who stayed at the house, an Australian girl and a young Canadian man, were both elsewhere. He wasn’t sure where, and didn’t particularly want to chase them up. If they wanted to be zombies tomorrow, good luck to them.

He’d gone out for a burger around midnight. Usually, a midnight burger run helped him sleep.

Not this time. Although, he reflected, that probably had more to do with who he’d stumbled into at the diner than anything else.

Cas put all thoughts of Raphael out of his mind. Dean needed him functional and for that, he needed to sleep.

No dice.

It would have been about three in the morning when he heard the crash. He was outside in slippers and a robe with a glass of hot buttered rum in hand.

_Christ, Dean’s gonna be busy_ , he thought, sitting down on the porch swing. He downed his drink in one go and sighed.

 

The next thing he was aware of was the insistent shrilling of a ringing phone. It took him a while to realize it was his.

Cas glanced at the caller ID just long enough to confirm it wasn’t Raphael, then answered sleepily. “Hmmm?”

“Jesus, you sound like hell,” Chuck said.

“Jus’ woke up… got about three, three and a half hours sleep?” The sun was up, but not very high above the horizon. Three and a half hours sounded about right.

“Dean’s supposed to clock off in an hour. I had him clock off early.”

Cas was instantly alert. Dean, clock off early? _Dean_ , of all people? “Is he okay?”

Chuck was quiet for a moment. Cas was halfway inside when the head medic finally responded. “It’s been a tough night. Uriel’s crews were supposed to take over from us, but they’ve already been working for four hours. We’re all wrecked. Dean… stayed with a patient for hours, trying to keep her conscious while the fire department cut her out of her car. He went above and beyond to keep that girl alive. It wasn’t enough… he’s a bit of a mess.”

“I’m just getting dressed,” Cas said, walking into his bedroom. “Can I talk to him?”

“He’s not very coherent…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Cas put the phone on speaker and started rummaging around his top drawer for a shirt. Any shirt. There was a pair of jeans hung over the foot of his bed already, he just needed a fucking _shirt_ \- and there didn’t seem to be any. A full shirt drawer and no shirts. He was going to have to have a word with the housekeeper…

“C-Cas?”

“Hey, Dean. Tough night, huh?”

Dean let out a choked sob, but apparently couldn’t manage any words. Cas finally found a shirt - a navy blue polo with _Novak Equestrian_ embroidered across the front and _Castiel Novak_ across the back - and pulled it on.

“Okay, just let me put some pants on and I’ll come get you.”

“Just… don’t hang up. ‘Kay?”

“I had no intention of doing that,” Cas said truthfully, slipping into his jeans. “I’ll use my hands-free headset. You know Sterling, the horse I fell with? He’s off his sling now. Holding all his own weight. He’s still very sore, poor guy, but you expect that. Tendon tears are no fun. I was on the phone to Gabe yesterday and he’s bringing me back a new horse, so my show team is back to five…”

The stream of chatter might have seemed inappropriate to some, but Cas knew Dean well enough already to know that it would help. He needed distractions. Cas was happy to oblige.

He got into his car, started the engine, and drove her out of the garage and down the drive, still not pausing in his chatter.

As he pulled up outside the hospital, Dean was there to greet him, flanked by a redheaded paramedic easily a foot shorter than him.

Cas got out of the car and stuck out his hand to the woman. “Hi. I’m Cas.”

“Anna Milton,” she said. “You look after him, you hear? I want him back in one piece when he’s ready to come back to work.”

“Anna!” Dean’s protest was half-hearted at best. Anna cast him a worried glance.

“Don’t worry,” Cas offered half a smile, “he’ll be good as new in no time. Right, Dean?”

“Mm,” Dean agreed, looking faintly ill.

“It was bad,” Anna said. “We’ll all have nightmares… for a long time. Drive carefully, alright? I want my best friend kept safe.”

“I’d never risk his life,” Cas asserted softly. He glanced over at Dean, who was hugging himself and trembling, and sighed. “Look, I need to get him home.”

“All day yesterday he wouldn’t stop talking about you and his weekend with you and the horses,” Anna said. “He likes to tough things out, pretend he’s okay… don’t let him.”

“I won’t,” Cas promised, gently steering Dean towards Sally’s passenger seat. As Anna waved and went back inside, he turned to Dean. “If you think you might puke, tell me, ‘cause if you throw up in my car you’re replacing the upholstery.”

“I’m fine, Cas.” He obviously wasn’t, but Cas decided not to push him to admit it.

“Alright. Let’s get home so you can get some sleep.”

 

It was three days before Dean felt like himself again. Those three days, he spent mostly in Balthazar’s indoor arena with Lavender while Cas worked other horses on a long lead he called a ‘lunge line’.

On the third day, Cas brought Jackdaw in. The lanky black was saddled, and Dean thought for one panicked moment that Cas intended to ride him. Then Cas held out a riding helmet towards him. “This should fit you. You don’t have to get on today, or ever, but I thought since you liked Jack… and you’re getting so confident with Lavender...”

“We’ll see,” Dean said. He didn’t want to disappoint the eager equestrian, but he couldn’t build up the courage to ride that day. Or the next.

It was five days after Leah’s death that Cas turned to him and said, “Would you be comfortable if Balt brought Ash in?”

Dean thought about that for a moment. “Ash is the giant one, right?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Can he stay at the other end of the arena?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.”

 

Hael watched Balthazar ride on the sixth day, with her new daughter in her arms. Dean spent most of that time at the very edge of the arena, talking to her and staring at the baby. He was sure he’d never seen anything so small. Ever.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

Hael smiled gently. “The girl you couldn’t save… her name was Leah?”

Dean nodded, mute.

“Balt and I were throwing around a few ideas before our little girl was born. We were already considering Leah Ellen, but I thought, if you’re going to be around here a lot, maybe that name would hurt… I wanted to run it past you before we decide.”

Dean blinked back tears, grinning like an idiot. “Leah Ellen Novak. She looks like a Leah Ellen to me. For what it’s worth, which isn’t much ‘cause she’s yours, I think it’s perfect for her.”

That Hael would think of how he would feel about a name when naming her child was… huge. He wasn’t used to people caring about him that openly.

After Hael and Balt went inside, he buried his face in Lavender’s mane and cried. Somehow, Cas knew to let him.

 

Dean was just about to drift off to sleep when Cas woke him back up by running one finger over his bare chest.

“Mmm?” He tangled his fingers through Cas’ hair.

“I was just thinking how great it is that my family loves you,” Cas murmured.

“They do?”

“Nearly as much as I do.”

“Think Hael is likely to let us babysit little Leah?”

Cas laughed. “I didn’t think you were the babies type. Apparently I was wrong.”

“I love kids,” Dean said with a shrug. “I was actually disappointed when Lisa told me her son Ben wasn’t mine. I’m still not sure I believe her.”

Cas didn’t seem overly bothered by the revelation. He just tilted his head. “Didn’t expect that one. You really are a puzzle, aren’t you, Dean Winchester?”

“I fuckin’ love how calmly you accept everything…”

“Did you love her?”

Dean shrugged. “Weekend fling. We were in high school. Ben’d be about five now, which is exactly right for him to be mine… and he’s a mini-me in so many fuckin’ ways. I’ve only met him once… she doesn’t want me in his life. Don’t blame her. I was a wild teenager. Still am, in some ways. Kid like him, I’d be nothing but a bad influence.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Cas scowled at him. “It’s just depressing. You’re good, and brave, and selfless… you work stupid hours at a stressful job because you get to help people doing it… you’re beautiful, Dean… right down to the core. You have a stunning soul, and I love you.”

“Aw, stop it, you’ll make me cry again,” Dean complained, ruffling Cas’ hair.

“Well, that won’t do… You’re prettier when you smile.”

“Shaddup, you big sap!”

“You’re blushing, Dean,” Cas pointed out helpfully. “You know what that makes me want to do to you, Winchester?” Cas’ voice dropped nearly a whole octave, going low and husky. “I want to make you beg… I want to make you scream for me inside you.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned, reeling a little from the sudden change of tone.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you?” Cas trailed his fingers down Dean’s chest, touch so light it was barely there at all. “I want to taste you. I bet you taste good.”

“Oh, wouldn't you like to know?” Dean smirked. Cas thought he was in charge. Cute.

“I intend to find out…” Cas straddled him and pinned his wrists above his head. “And once I know how you taste…” The equestrian trailed off, leaning down to nip Dean’s collarbone. “I’ll leave you shaking… sobbing… you won’t be able to sit down for a week when I’m done with you.”

Dean shivered at the words, following up quickly with his own dark laugh. “Cute.”

Cas bit his earlobe, hard enough to draw a yelp from the Winchester. “Like you could do better.”

“Well-” Dean gasped… how the _fuck_ did Cas manage to find all his most sensitive spots? “-w-well, if you let me, I could pro-” he broke off with a filthy moan as Cas’ nimble fingers brushed a spot above his hipbone.

Cas tensed for an instant. Just an instant, but it was long enough for Dean to know he’d taken one step too far.

“Not likely,” the equestrian growled, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s pajama pants.

Dean growled in reply, arching his hips into Cas’ hand.

With a husky hum, Cas released Dean’s wrists. “Patience, Winchester,” he said, smiling and biting his bottom lip. “Gotta make you so hard you think you’ll burst first…”

With a soft moan at those words, Dean said, “Mmmh, do that…”

Cas’ fingers released Dean’s cock. “Need you naked… want to watch you undress.”

Before Dean could remind Blue Eyes that moving was a bit difficult with an equestrian sitting on his thighs, Cas palmed him again.

Dean groaned. He wasn’t used to being the submissive one, but to his surprise, it was fucking hot - and the icy fire in Cas’ eyes was a lot more intimidating than he’d expected. “Cas… please…”

Cas released him again, this time getting off his thighs. “Get up. Get naked.” Four short words, two commands, spoken with desperate heat. And there was no mistaking the bulge in Cas’ pants.

Fuck, he was _huge_ …

Cas lay sprawled across the bed with one elbow holding him up, watching his paramedic move to stand in the middle of the room. Dean didn’t miss that Cas positioned himself deliberately to emphasize his arousal.

_Fuck_.

“Where’s my little show pony?” Cas grinned wickedly. “Might want to hurry the fuck up, Winchester. I’m getting impatient.”

Dean couldn’t help but stare at Cas and the intimidating size of his arousal. The paramedic’s hands fumbled for his pajama pants; Cas wanted a show, he’d fucking well get one.

“You should hum me a theme, get me in the mood…” Dean laughed, sliding the pants down enough to show a nest of curls.

Cas ran his tongue across his bottom lip with a low moan that went straight to Dean’s crotch. Fuck, that was hot.

The equestrian started to hum Bad _Touch_ , then snorted. “Just get on with it, dork.”

Dean grinned, pushing his pants down the tiniest measurement possible. He started to sway his hips slowly, hands leaving his waistband to rub up his toned stomach.

“How much do you want me, Mr. Novak?”

Cas snarled a curse under his breath, eyes glazed with lust. “I’m running out of patience with you, Winchester. Might just handcuff you to the bed, please myself, and leave you horny…”

With an adorable pout, Dean pretended to be offended. “Can’t I have some fun?” He stuck his tongue out and continued his dance.

“Get your fucking pants off, _now_ , and come here,” Cas ordered. “Or do you not _want_ me to make you squirm? Hm?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t want to be impressed,” Dean teased again. He put his hands up, closed his knees, and let the pants fall to the floor. “PUDDING!” He was nervous - he wasn’t used to being the submissive partner. He couldn’t help it.

“Idiot,” Cas said, shaking his head fondly. “Now get your ass over here.”

Dean waddled over - pants still around his ankles - trying not to laugh or fall over, then flopped onto the bed and kicked off the soft fabric. He giggled and forced Castiel down by the collar of that navy blue polo shirt for a dirty kiss. “Take me.”

“I wasn’t waiting for permission,” Cas growled, one of his hands making its way down Dean’s spine. “I was waiting for you to do as you’re told.” He slapped Dean’s ass, then moved his hand to tease the paramedic’s hole with one finger. “You won’t get any more than this unless you behave.”

Dean let out a pathetic mewl, pressing himself against Cas’ chest. More, he needed more. His thigh slid between Cas’ legs and lay comfortably in place. And Blue Eyes could reach better…

“Good boy,” Cas hummed, slipping one finger inside Dean, just to the first joint.

Dean mumbled something under his breath and tried to press himself onto Cas’ digit, desperate for pleasure. “C-Cas- mmh, Cas! More!”

Cas obliged, but very slowly, smiling wickedly at Dean’s gasps and squirms. “Gonna make you beg for that second finger. Gonna make you squeal.”

Clutching at the shirt Cas still wore, Dean groaned, then whimpered. He wanted… no, _needed_ more. “Ah- uh- please! Cassie!”

Cas tutted. “Patience, Dean.” He didn’t oblige Dean’s plea for more fingers, just worked him open some more with the one. “Better start squealing soon… not sure how long I wanna wait.”

Dean mewled and pushed back on Cas’ hand. Cas withdrew his finger, produced some lube out of apparently nowhere, and squirted the stuff onto his hand.

“Want it cold, big boy?”

“Cas…” Dean whined. “Need you…”

Cas obliged, sliding his finger back in. Dean yelped at the slick cold, but finally, that second finger made its way inside. Cas took his sweet time scissoring Dean open, then slipped a third finger in.

Dean welcomed the burn. Trembling, he pushed himself back, wanting Cas inside - no, needing him. “Cas- mmh! Cas, please-!”

“Gonna need your help to get my cock out,” Cas moaned. “‘Less you want me to take my fingers out.”

“N-no.” Dean fumbled at Cas’ waistband with useless hands.

Cas freed his hand and shoved Dean off with a frustrated groan, then stood up and pulled his shirt off. “Want something done right you gotta fuckin’ do it yourself.”

Dean watched, helpless and shaking, as Cas stripped. “C-come back…”

“When I’m good and ready,” Cas growled, looking at Dean with glazed, half-lidded eyes. “Not done admiring you. God, Dean, you’re so fuckin’ hot…”

Dean could only manage a choked whimper in response.

“Argh, fine, I suppose you do deserve to be punished,” Cas allowed, returning to the bed. “You won’t walk right for a fuckin’ week… not that anyone’ll notice, with your bow-legs, hmm?”

“Cas,” Dean mewled. He moved to grip Cas’ hips and licked up the pre-cum leaking down the equestrian’s thick shaft. “Mmh.”

Cas shuddered and moaned, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark.

“Want you. Inside. Now.” Dean shifted, presenting himself. Cas’ head brushed his entrance and he whimpered, raw need blurring his awareness of anything but his equestrian.

Cas pushed in slowly, inch by inch. “God, Dean…” He pulled out, then slammed back in, drawing a wordless cry from his paramedic.

“M-more! Ca- Cas!”

“Dean…” Cas drew his name out. “Mmh…”

Dean could normally go for hours, but this… this was too much. “Cas- ah! Gonna…”

“You better fuckin’ scream my name,” Cas snarled in his ear, wrapping one hand around the medic’s cock and working it to the same rhythm as his thrusts.

Stars burst in Dean’s vision. He threw his head back and came hard. “Cas! CAS!”

“Fu- Dean- D-Dean!” Cas filled him up with heat, then pulled out and collapsed on top of him, panting.

“I fuckin’ love you,” Dean managed.

“Mmh,” was all Cas could respond with.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say slightly? I meant very much.
> 
> Smut is not my strong suit, but I tried. I had some help from my wonderful girlfriend/beta reader, [Iloveswedishdjs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iloveswedishdjs). Love you so much, baby <3
> 
> A big chunk of this chapter is in fact unbeta'd because my blue-eyed beauty (girlfriend/beta reader, for those playing at home) had to go to bed but I've gone through and had a look. There are a couple of sentences I don't really like... hoping you guys don't notice them XD


	12. Angels Fall Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter starts stressful but I promise it's cute and fluffy
> 
> And a bit storyline-y
> 
> It was a fun chapter to write. 3770 words, written in about 3 hours.

Awake well before dawn for the fourth time in as many days, Cas lay listening to Dean’s heartbeat and wishing he could go back to sleep. It seemed even the best sex of his _life_ couldn’t keep memory-nightmares from rousing him. In fact, it seemed to have brought things to the surface that he’d thought long-buried.

He wasn’t sure whether his unsettled stomach was because of the sex, because of the nightmares, or because - God forbid - he was coming down with something. He was in no danger of vomiting, but he felt like _shit_ , and he definitely did not want breakfast. Which was unfortunate, because he was pretty sure Balt planned on making pancakes. The blueberry kind - it was the only kind Balthazar Novak knew how to make.

Groaning, he hauled himself out of bed. Dean instantly rolled over onto his stomach, slipping one hand under his pillow and throwing the other one above his head.

Cas smiled fondly and turned away, heading to his tallboy to paw through the drawers for something to wear. Underwear first; the first thing his hands fell on was a pair of white boxer briefs. He put them on, and then found his favorite sky blue riding breeches and slithered into those, though he had no intention of getting on a horse. It was another week before he was allowed to do _that_. He just spent so much time in breeches that they were more comfortable to him than almost anything else, and with his stomach showing no signs of ceasing its bitching, he wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

For the fifth time this week, the only shirt he could find was a navy blue Novak Equestrian polo. He pulled that on, made a fruitless attempt to tame his hair, found a pair of socks, and then headed downstairs.

The house was empty until he reached the kitchen, where Hael bounced a screaming Leah while trying to convince the baby to latch onto her breast. He decided to give the mother and baby some privacy and headed outside to curl up on the porch swing, looking out over the pastures.

He was still there several hours later when Dean came looking for him, and didn’t feel any better.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, sitting down beside him.

“Mm,” Cas said. “Hey to you too.”

Dean’s brow furrowed with concern. “You okay?”

“Not feeling well,” Cas whined, pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“Balthazar mentioned you didn’t want any pancakes,” Dean said gently. “Last night… did I…?”

Cas shook his head. “You didn’t cause this. C’mon, let me get my boots on and we’ll head to the barn… Horses make everything better.”

 

The horses didn’t make anything better. Cas leaned heavily against the arena fence, watching Dean play tag with Jackdaw. Every day, the paramedic gained confidence, and even when Jackdaw decided to take off around the arena bucking like a lunatic, all Dean did was laugh.

Cas gripped the fence tight with both hands, not caring that his left arm protested. His head spun viciously and he was pretty sure something was trying to claw its way out of his body via his stomach. He turned around and slid down the fence to a sitting position, clutching his head with one hand and his stomach with the other.

His vision blurred and darkness invaded. He pushed at it, trying to fight it off.

“D-Dea-” he managed, before passing out.

 

Dean forgot all about Jackdaw and sprinted for the arena fence, vaulting over it and falling to his knees at Cas’ side. “Cas!”

No response. Shit. Moving automatically, he carefully put Cas into the recovery position. The equestrian’s pulse and respiration were both strong and steady, but he was a little warmer to the touch than usual. If this had been completely out of nowhere, Dean might have panicked and called an ambulance, but Cas had mentioned earlier that he wasn’t feeling well.

“Come on, Cassie. Wake up for me, so I can get you to bed. C’mon, babe, I’m a fuckin’ paramedic, don’t make me call you an ambulance…”

Someone Dean recognized walked past with a horse, then paused, jogged the horse to a tie rail, and sprinted back. “Cas?”

Dean looked up at her. “He said this morning he was feeling ill… stubborn bastard didn’t even consider staying in bed. Nope. Said he’d feel better at the barn. I’m just tryin’ to wake him up so I can get him to bed.” He knew her name… It started with R… “Rachel, right?”

“Yeah. You’re sure he’ll be okay? Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m a paramedic. I don’t think he needs the hospital. He just needs a couple of days in bed. He’s just got a fever. I’d bet money that the rest is because of it, and if I can break his fever, he’ll be fine.”

Cas stirred, groaning.

“That’s the way, baby. Come on, wake up for me. I’m gonna take you up to the house now, alright?” Dean hauled Cas up and took the barely-conscious equestrian’s weight. “Rachel, can you put Jackdaw in his pasture for the day? Cas and I were gonna do it, but I have to look after him.”

“S-sure. If he does need the hospital, call the fucking ambulance, got it? He’s like a brother to me and if you’re wrong about this, I’ll kill you.”

What was with horse people and death threats? “I know what I’m doing, Rachel. It’s going around - it’s just a viral thing. Passes within a couple of days. I picked up five people who had it last week. Come to think of it, I’m probably the one that gave it to him. I don’t get sick anymore but I do sometimes carry…” Dean started towards the house. Cas was a lot fuckin’ heavier as a dead weight.

Once he was safely tucked in, Dean turned away from him to explain to a worried Balthazar. “He has a fever. I need a thermometer, another blanket, and a cold compress. If I can bring his fever down, he’ll feel better. Paracetamol will help with that if you have any. Failing that, anything spicy will usually peak and then break a fever.”

Balt nodded. “Shouldn’t have let him go to the barn…”

“I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t thought there was a possible, uh, reason for him not feeling well.” Dean didn’t want to go into the whole explanation about brain chemicals and good sex with his boyfriend’s _brother_. No. Freaking. Way. “Either way, no harm done.”

 

It took a day and a half to break Cas’ fever. As fevers usually did, it got a lot worse before it got better. Dean spent several hours holding a bucket and rubbing Cas’ back. But once it broke, Cas was on his feet again within a couple of hours.

 

“I still feel like shit,” Cas rasped, throat raw from those hours of vomiting, “but I’m okay.”

“Take it easy for a day,” Dean suggested. “You have your xrays this Sunday… and if you don’t rest for a day or two, you won’t feel like getting back in the saddle. ‘Kay?”

Cas hummed an agreement. “I’m hungry.”

“Take it easy, alright? Saltine crackers are a good start. Maybe some Gatorade to replenish those electrolytes.” Dean stroked Cas’ face. “If you’re okay with that, you can have a small meal for dinner.”

“Dean, I’m not a child.”

“You gave us a hell of a fright. Humor me.”

Cas was silent for a while, pouting. Eventually, he said, “Fine.”

 

Dean had to go back to work on Friday. Chuck had given him only eight hours, but insisted he go home early if he needed to. He insisted Cas come to Bobby’s with him for a couple of days, because Bobby was probably starving to death on Sam’s rabbit food.

He made it through the eight hour shift, but only barely. He kept flashing back to the accident, to the grey-eyed girl he’d just had time to make friends with before she died… or to the job to get those kids Alistair had tortured to the hospital for treatment.

“Dean,” Anna told him three hours in, “if you’re not okay-”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he snapped.

“Just go home…”

“No fuckin’ way. I told you, I’m fine.”

By the end of the eight hours, he had to admit he was very much _not_ fine. Breathing evenly took conscious effort.

Finally, Chuck put his foot down. “Dean, if you don’t see a therapist, I can’t have you working as a paramedic. You’ve been building up to a panic attack for _eight hours_. You can’t focus properly with that going on. Get. Some. Help.”

Three hours and one hell of a panic attack later, he found himself talking to a psychologist.

“So,” the psych said, “what’s been bothering you?”

“I dunno what to tell you,” he hedged. “I mean, I’m a paramedic, y’know? I see some fuckin’ horrible things.”

“And it sounds like you’re still affected by them,” the psych, Doctor Kevin Tran, replied. “Most paramedics compartmentalize. That way, the bad things get shoved into a calm, professional box, and they can approach nearly anything without being bothered by it. But that’s not good for a person’s long-term mental health. A lot of them start looking at everything else with that same cold, professional perspective.”

“You’re sayin’ I shouldn’t try not to give a crap?” Dean raised an eyebrow. That was the last thing he’d expected. Everyone always said the key to coping with hell was to learn not to care about it.

“You shouldn’t have to. You should have other tools at your disposal. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Hey, uh, Doc… I’ve just started learning to be comfortable with horses. Will that… help? ‘Cause I kinda like it. Any excuse to spend more time with them.”

“Hippotherapy is proving an effective treatment for so many different problems that I would never dismiss it out of hand,” Doctor Tran said. “In my field, it’s especially good for post traumatic stress. I think continuing with the horses would do you good.”

“Hippo what now? Horses, Doc, not hippos.”

“Hippopotamus literally translates to ‘horse of the river’,” Tran informed him patiently. “Hippotherapy, therefore, is horse therapy…”

 

Dean had been away from Cas for thirteen hours when he finally pulled into Bobby’s driveway in his borrowed Toyota.

Cas sprinted out to greet him. “Where’ve you been? I was so worried!”

“I’m fine, Cas,” he mumbled. “Chuck just made me see a therapist, wouldn’t take no for an answer and wouldn’t fuckin’ let me go home until I had.”

“You could have called!”

“Left my phone at your place, didn’t I?” Dean made a face. “C’mon, let’s get inside. I’m gonna fall asleep on my feet.”

 

Sunday happened sooner than anybody quite expected.

Cas didn’t want company for his xrays, so Dean dropped him off at the hospital and headed straight back to Bobby’s to work on his car. The new roof was on, he’d replaced all the glass, and he was well on his way to beating the last of the dents out.

So, by the time Sammy came in, phone in hand, he had her ready to be repainted, and was just starting to set up to do so.

“Dean. It’s Cas.”

Dean nodded, thanked Sam, and took the phone. “Hey.”

“Hi!” Cas was brighter than usual.

“So?”

“I can ride!”

Impala forgotten, Dean jogged towards the Toyota. “That’s awesome. I’m on my way to pick you up. My place or yours?”

“Home. I’m going to get changed into riding gear and get straight on a horse. You should bring Jackdaw in and I’ll teach you how to tack him up. Maybe you’ll finally ride today. I don’t know. Up to you. Dean, I- I haven’t ridden in six weeks. I’m getting back in the saddle today!”

“Yeah, you said, now let me hang up and give Sammy back his phone. Dork!” Dean hit ‘end call’ and threw Sam’s phone at him. “Thanks, Bitch!”

“Jerk!” Sam shouted back, but his voice was lost in the roar of a four-cylinder engine being pushed far past its limits.

 

“Okay, so this bit’s the pommel,” Cas pointed at the front of the saddle, “and that bit at the back is the cantle. You want to put the saddle on two finger-widths behind his shoulder blade. It’s a dressage saddle, so just go by the very front. In a jumping saddle the flaps can come up over the shoulder as long as the weight-bearing part of the saddle stays behind it.”

Dean did as he was told.

“Check that the flaps aren’t folded up underneath. They do that sometimes. When you check the flaps on Jack’s right, pull his girth free of the stirrup. Yep, like that. Then back to his left and tighten it slowly.”

Somehow, Cas managed to be more radiant than Dean had ever seen him before. “You really love teaching, huh?”

“Nearly as much as I love training the horses,” Cas confirmed. “You can tighten it one more hole, but leave that for now. I’ll put his bridle on, but pay attention to how I do it, alright?”

Dean nodded and watched. Cas put the metal part of the bridle in his left hand. His right hand went on top of Jack’s head - the spot he called the horse’s ‘poll’. Jack took the metal part willingly and Cas brought the leather parts up to his right hand, pulling Jack’s ears forward through the bridle with his left. The confusing jumble of leather suddenly made sense. Cas tightened up the strap behind Jack’s jaw first, then the strap around his nose.

“Ready?”

Dean nodded again. “Ready.”

“Tell me if you decide to get on, ‘cause you’ll need me to handle Jack until you get the hang of it.”

“‘Kay.”

They led the two horses - Jackdaw and Cas’ three-year-old colt Tiger - into Balthazar’s indoor arena. Cas’ jumps had been put back up, so it was the only arena without jumps in it, and, as Cas had explained, Dean wasn’t ready to handle a horse around jumps yet.

Cas put his left foot in the stirrup and swung easily into the saddle, something Dean considered a considerable feat of athleticism. Tiger was two inches taller than Jackdaw already, and still growing.

All tension left Cas’ body. A giant smile spread across the equestrian’s face, and at some invisible cue, Tiger moved into a relaxed walk.

Just like that, Dean knew he wanted to ride a horse today. Cas had only just mounted, though, so he kept that to himself and jogged around the arena with one hand on Jack’s reins. Jackdaw trotted at his shoulder just beautifully, so he kicked up the pace until the lanky black gelding broke into a canter.

Tiger was brown with black legs, mane, and tail, some black on his muzzle, and black ear tips. Dean didn’t understand the name at all. No stripes. Why the fuck would you name a horse Tiger when it had no stripes? He didn’t even have a speck of white on his legs or face.

Jackdaw had three white hairs in the whorl between his eyes, but apart from that and the brand on his neck (which Cas had explained was a BLM brand) was a gorgeous, glossy blue-black. Just like the bird he was named after.

Panting, Dean slowed and stopped, and Jack did the same without any pressure on the reins. Horse and handler watched as Tiger exploded into a bucking fit. It seemed to be caused by the creaking of the expanding arena wall.

Cas pulled Tiger’s head around and made him go sideways _fast_ , growling at the horse to behave himself. The bucking stopped.

“Fucking three-year-olds,” Cas gasped, letting Tiger go in a straight line again. “Sorry about that, Dean… he’s only half-broke. I thought he was quieter than that.”

Dean shrugged. “I know you can handle it.”

But Cas only had one hand on the reins; he shook his left arm out, obviously trying to hide a grimace. “Arm isn’t happy. I’ll have a working pupil get on him. They can all handle this bullshit better than I can right now.”

“Before you go get someone else,” Dean said, “I was thinking I want to ride.”

“Even after seeing _that_?” Cas dismounted, jogged over to the arena gate, and handed Tiger off to a stablehand. “See if Rachel’s free, she’s the best option for handling his crap…” Then he turned back to Dean. “Walk him towards the mounting block. He’ll line himself up.”

Heart going a million miles an hour, Dean approached the mounting block. Jackdaw’s ears flicked forward, then back to Dean, and the black horse shifted sideways half a step before walking dead straight up to the block. Cas met them there and slipped a strange-looking halter over Jack’s head. It had rings on the nose. A lunge line was clipped onto the middle one.

“It’s a lunging cavesson,” Cas explained.

Dean nodded. “So you have control, I just have to stay on.”

“Pretty much. Gather up the reins and grab a big handful of his mane with your right hand. Good. And hold onto the stirrup with your left hand to keep it still. Now put your left foot in- no, the _other_ left.”

Dean blushed and switched feet.

“Let go of the stirrup and grab his mane with your left hand as well. Good, now push off with your right foot and swing up and over.”

Cas made it look so _easy_. Dean ended up laying flat over the saddle and sort of scrambled the rest of the way.

“Don’t go looking for your other stirrup yet. I’ll put your foot in it.” Cas did so. “Let your legs be heavy. Take your whole weight down through your legs. Yeah, just like that. If you keep your weight like that, your heels will stay down. And when your heels are down, you’re not going anywhere.”

Dean was only sort of half listening. The fact that he was actually _on a horse_ was taking up too much of his ability to think for him to consider much else.

“When you’re ready,” Cas said, “just squeeze his sides with your legs. Remember to be relaxed and flexible - no, not _that_ relaxed, you need some strength too! Be tire rubber. Strong but able to bend and move. That’s it.”

Dean took a deep breath in and squeezed Jackdaw’s sides. The horse lurched forwards, and Dean’s hands went straight to the front of his saddle.

“Keep your weight in your legs, Dean,” Cas reminded him. “And get your hands off the front of that saddle. I don’t want to see you grabbing the saddle. From here on out, every time you touch that saddle with your hands without being told to, you’ll have to scrub out one water bucket with a toothbrush.”

That sounded like hard work, so Dean made a conscious effort to keep his hands away from the saddle.

“Lower those hands a little, they’re a bit high.”

Couldn’t fuckin’ win…

“You look great, Dean. Keep that up. Okay, try shortening your reins a little bit. I want you to be able to feel his mouth. Don’t pull on it, just feel the corners. Keep your wrists firm and your fingers, elbows and shoulders elastic. Softer than the rest of you, like a rubber band rather than a tire. Let him move your arms.”

That was hard, and it took Dean several minutes to get it. A patient, if confused, Jackdaw just kept walking circles around Cas the entire time. But the moment it clicked, it felt so _natural_ …

“You look awesome. Want to try steering him? Bring him in towards me a little bit by just squeezing your inside rein like a sponge.”

Dean tried that. Jackdaw turned a little bit, but not very much.

“Now look where you’re going and touch him with your outside leg.”

And suddenly the horse had power steering. Dean turned him all the way around to walk in the other direction.

“Drop your weight, turn into a bit of a stiffer piece of rubber, touch him with both your legs, and squeeze both hands… and let him stop.”

Dean’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Jackdaw came to a halt smoothly, and Dean turned in the saddle to grin at Cas. “Did I do it right?”

“Perfect, Dean. Absolutely perfect. You’re a real natural at this.” Cas beamed up at him. “Are you comfortable trying a trot? It’s a bit harder. I’ll let you hang on to the front of your saddle to start with.”

“Can I just walk around off the lead today?” Dean asked. “I’ll try a trot next time, maybe.”

“As much as you’re comfortable with. You’re confident you’ll remember how to steer and stop?”

Dean nodded. “I got this.”

“I’ll have a stablehand- oh, hi, Rachel.”

“Sorted the little bastard out for you,” Rachel said, coming into the arena with Tiger in tow. “Want him back?”

Cas rubbed his fingers across the scar on his left arm. “Yeah, I think I will. Can’t have him learning that bucking gets rid of me.” He unclipped the lunge line from the cavesson. “Dean, don’t let him get that caught. He won’t do anything stupid, but if he was any other horse, leaving the cavesson on would be dangerous. Understood?”

Dean nodded. “I won’t let him walk too near the fence.”

Cas took Tiger’s reins from Rachel. “Thanks. Tell Balt I appreciate him lending you to me.”

“Back to work, then,” Rachel said with a smile, retreating from the arena as Cas swung up into the saddle.

Dean, meanwhile, had Jackdaw walking circles and serpentines, stopping and starting, just because he could.

“Take him straight for a sec,” Cas said, pushing Tiger into a trot. He looped the colt around the arena then brought him up next to Jackdaw and eased him into step beside the lanky black.

Cas leaned over to kiss Dean.

Dean lost his balance and toppled off his mount, pulling Cas down with him. Both horses stopped to stare at them, but they were both too busy laughing to try to get to their feet.

“You made me fall off,” Dean accused.

“And you pulled me with you, so I think we’re even,” Cas chuckled, kissing him to shut him up. “You’re not a rider until you fall off.”

“So I’m a proper rider now, am I?”

“I hope so.”

 

 


	13. Laying the Past to Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom.

Dean’s fingers trailed over a scar on Cas’ thigh. Cas had told him about most of his scars. It was this one and the burn scar on his ribs that he hadn’t discussed.

“This one is unusual,” Dean hummed. Cas thought he would lift the blankets to see it, but he didn’t.

“Scarification is an art form,” Cas said softly. “I don’t show it to people, but you can see it… if you want.”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve already seen it. ‘Why Her?’ - it _is_ beautiful. It must have hurt.”

Cas hid his face in Dean’s chest. “I did it… with an X-acto knife. It wasn’t long after Mom died… and it’s what made Gabe beg Balt to come home. He could cope with me being basically catatonic but when I started carving myself up…”

“I can’t imagine the pain it would take for someone to take a blade to their own flesh.” Dean ran one hand down Cas’ spine. It trembled a little, and Cas felt bad for telling him. He’d just gotten home after a hell of a shift, which had ended with a Code Red pickup for a suicide attempt. The girl had taken a razor to her wrists and was dead before Anna and Dean got there.

“I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Cas mumbled.

“Never feel bad for sharing your pain,” Dean growled. It was such a fast reaction that Cas would have thought it automatic if not for Dean’s emphatic tone.

The more time that passed, the less time Dean spent at Bobby’s, until one day, his one drawer in Cas’ tallboy became a shared tallboy and closet, and Baby sat beside Sally in the garage. Cas hadn’t approached the idea of Dean moving in, it had just happened.

Cas gave his mare Renae to Hannah for Christmas. Her delighted squeals were matched only by baby Leah’s. Sam was accepted into Stanford on a full scholarship, and Dean suddenly had a large lump sum he had no idea what to do with. He used it to buy a horse - a sixteen-year-old Oldenburg gelding called Brighton. Cas gave him Jackdaw a few days after that.

New Years’ Eve came, and with it, an announcement. Hael was pregnant again. Hugs all-round; Hael even forced one on a loudly protesting Gabriel.

Sam, Bobby and Jess came to the New Years’ party, where Sam and Jess got engaged.

That got Dean thinking, but he kept it to himself.

Nobody seemed to be particularly keen on mentioning the showjumping world cup. Dean knew it hadn’t gone very well, but nobody would tell him much about it. Gabriel explained he’d had to scratch Crowley’s mare and one of the geldings because they’d both come down with a nasty fever the day before competition started, but hadn’t gone into detail about what had happened with the other gelding. Cas wasn’t saying anything on the matter either.

But Gabriel and the horse truck had returned with only three horses - and Gabe had bought a new horse for Cas while he was away.

It was a frigid day in early January. Cas was in the middle of rubbing Crowley’s mare down when a familiar voice froze him in place.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a long time, Castiel.”

“Get the fuck off my property,” Cas snarled, drawing himself up to his full height. Raphael was a little taller, but Cas wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

“Why should I, sweet-cheeks? I’m here to reclaim something that belongs to me.” Raphael tilted his head in just that way he used to.

Cas’ blood ran cold. “I was never yours.”

“Oh, I don’t want _you_ ,” Raphael spat. “I want my fucking horse back.”

“What horse?” Cas knew for a fact that Raphael had never officially owned a horse. He rode Berry a few times, and Jackdaw a total of ten times, but neither had gone well for him.

“Don’t you play dumb!” Raphael strode forwards and threw Cas against a wall, pinning him there by the collar of his Novak Equestrian polo. “You know which horse!”

Cas squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. Raphael was finally going to kill him.

“Let. Him. Go.” That glorious, furious voice had never been a more welcome sound. With a murmured, “stand, Jack,” Dean dropped Jackdaw’s reins and pulled Raphael Angeles away. “Four months ago I swore to Cas that I would never let you touch him again. I’ve obviously failed him that, but I won’t fail the other promise I made.”

Cas stayed pressed against the wall, trembling.

“Who the fuck are you?” Raphael snarled.

“My name is Dean fucking Winchester,” Dean snarled right back, “and I’m going to flay you alive for what you did to my boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” Raphael raised an eyebrow. “Before you do that, you might want to hear _my_ side of the story.”

Cas whimpered, unable to move. Dean put himself between Raphael and Cas.

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your side of the story. I see _your_ type all the time, asshat. Always full of bullshit excuses and lies. I’m running out of patience with you.” Dean shoved Raphael hard enough to send him staggering backwards, flailing for balance. “Do as Cas says and get off this property before I lose my temper.”

“Bring it on, bitch.”

Someone cocked a shotgun. Cas, Dean and Raphael all froze.

“My wife is calling the Sheriff,” Balthazar said, his voice lethally calm. “Nothing on this property ever belonged to you or ever will. You have been told to leave.”

“Like fuck nothing here is mine!” Raphael roared, lunging at Balt.

There was a deafening _boom_.

Raphael crumpled. Dean instantly went into paramedic mode, dropping to his knees at Raphael’s side.

Balthazar watched the scene unfold, eerily calm about the fact that he’d just shot a man. Probably killed the guy. A chest full of buckshot wasn’t good for anyone.

Cas slid down the wall, shaking. Three and a half years had passed since Raphael had set foot on the farm, and Novak Equestrian hadn’t seen a cent from him. Even if he _had_ owned a horse, it would be Novak property by now. Cas couldn’t work out why he’d chosen now to try to claim a Novak horse. It was such a long time…

Balt knelt down at his side. “You okay?”

Cas nodded. “I will be. What about you?”

“Cas, I was trained for this. I’m fine. A little stunned he was stupid enough to try that, but fine.” Balt glanced over to where Dean was still trying to stem Raphael’s bleeding. “And Dean was trained for _that_. Don’t you be mad at him for it. Understood?”

Cas nodded again. Jackdaw nudged him, and he took the lanky black’s reins. Most of the horses here would have gotten a hell of a fright when the shotgun went off, but Jack had calmly stood where Dean had left him. Cas thought it was probably the only reason Crowley’s mare hadn’t panicked and injured herself.

Dean stood up, looking down at Raphael. “Well. Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“Dead?” Balt asked.

Dean nodded. “The Sheriff should accept that it was self-defence. If not, I’ll testify on your behalf.”

“I had to do it.” Balthazar carefully put his shotgun on the ground and helped Cas up. “Didn’t want you getting your ass sent to prison, Winchester. That, and the douchebag had it coming.”

A Novak Equestrian pickup rolled up. Hael and Sheriff Mills got out of it. Hael looked from Raphael to Balthazar and raised an eyebrow. Balt gave half a shrug in response.

The Sheriff went to kneel to check Raphael’s pulse. Dean stopped her. “Don’t bother. He’s dead.”

“My shot,” Balthazar said. “Self-defence.”

“You’re awful calm for a man who just killed a guy,” Mills commented.

“I left the army coming up on six years ago,” Balt said, “but that kind of training doesn’t go away on its own. Raphael Angeles was told three and a half years ago that if he set foot on this property again, it would be trespass. I brought my shotgun here hoping the sight of it would run him off, but clearly it didn’t. Not only is he where he is plainly not supposed to be, he was threatening my brother.”

Cas nodded, still unable to find any words.

“He screamed something about one of our horses belonging to him-”

“Raphael Angeles has never owned a horse,” Cas said. His voice was too calm - almost clinical. Dean cast him a concerned glance, but appeared to be rooted in place.

“-and lunged at me. I enlisted at eighteen and left at twenty-five. Seven years of army training and one tour of Afghanistan. My instinctive reaction, therefore, was to pull the trigger. I had no time to think.”

The Sheriff considered that for a while. “I can’t see any wrongdoing, Mr. Novak, but I need you to come to the station and make a statement.”

“I can do that. Hael, can you look after Cas?”

Hael nodded. Sheriff Mills picked Balt’s shotgun up, opened the weapon up, pulled the remaining shell out of it, and then took it to the pickup.

Cas’ knees gave out. Dean caught him, and with Hael’s help, got him to a chair.

Cas didn’t speak another word for days. He wasn’t catatonic; he rode, he responded, for the most part he was very much himself. He just didn’t talk.

Dean accepted it, and never left his side. When Cas was riding, so was Dean. As a result, Brighton and Jackdaw were the two fittest horses on the property.

Brighton was being difficult. The big Oldenburg kept stopping and threatening to rear, and no matter what Dean did, he couldn’t figure out why. Cas had taught him to always rule out pain first. There was no pain, so the logical next step was to assume he was probably doing something wrong. He’d only been riding for a few months, after all. He just couldn’t work out what.

But he persisted.

It was five days after the showdown with Raphael that Dean turned to Cas, frustrated, and said, “Help me with this fucking horse!”

Cas tilted his head and watched for a while. Brighton went from threatening to actually rearing in that time. “Try a lighter contact. You’re holding him a bit tight there. I know his movement is huge and it’s a bit harder to keep balanced, but you need to make sure you’re not using your hands to do it.”

Dean nearly fell off in surprise. He hadn’t expected Cas to speak. He’d expected what he’d seen for the past few days - Cas getting on and sorting out the problem, then handing the horse back.

“Dean?”

“I’m okay, Cas, I just… it’s good to hear your voice.” He pushed Brighton back up into a trot, trying Cas’ advice. It didn’t work, so he tried riding on a slightly looped rein and the horse just reared higher.

“You ruled out pain?”

“Completely.”

“Ride Sven,” Cas offered, slipping off his mount. “I’ll sort this out.”

Dean dismounted and swapped Brighton’s reins for Sven’s. Sven was about fifteen hands high. Dean swung onto the little gelding’s back, feeling ridiculous on a horse so much smaller than the two he was used to.

“He’s a client’s horse,” Cas said, “so be careful with him.”

Dean just kept the little gelding trotting around the arena, watching Cas ride through rear after rear. They kept getting bigger. Finally, Cas grabbed a dressage whip on his way past the whip rack on the fence and belted Brighton across the hindquarters with it. The big gelding threw an epic tantrum, which Cas calmly rode through, and then settled into a relaxed trot.

“Looks like he’s just being an asshole,” Cas said. “If it was you, he wouldn’t have done it with me as well. If it was pain, I’d feel stiffness somewhere, but he’s as supple as any of Balt’s horses.”

Bringing Sven to a halt, Dean nodded. “I thought it _was_ me.”

“Normally I’d say, look at the other horses you ride, but that’s Jackdaw. And you and I both know Jack will put up with anything.” Cas laughed. “You need a horse that’s sensitive, but has decent manners.”

“And is more athletic than Jack, and won’t cost a fortune,” Dean said. “That’s a bit of a tall order.”

“I shouldn’t be this pleased that someone’s dead.” Cas set his razor aside and rolled his shoulders back. Raphael had been dead for fifteen days. “I mean… he’s dead. He has a family who are in mourning. And I’m here quietly fucking _celebrating_ because that chapter in my life is finally well and truly over and done with. He’ll never bother me again. No more calls. No more texts.”

“Don’t do this,” Dean growled for the tenth time. “You’re not allowed to regret how you feel about that dick being dead. We talk about this every morning.”

“I was surprised when you tried to save his life. You looked about ready to kill him yourself when Balt turned up.”

“Yeah, well, paramedic,” Dean said, gesturing at himself. He was in uniform (which Cas wanted to rip off him). “Speaking of which, I’m running late.”

“Let me drop you off, babe. I need to run some errands in town.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “You have staff for that.”

“Dean, it’s your birthday in six days.” Cas grinned. Dean had no idea what he was planning…

“Right. Yeah. ‘Kay, but let’s take Baby. I’ve missed her.”

Cas smiled and kissed his boyfriend of nearly five months. “You’re letting me drive the Impala?”

“You let me drive Sally,” Dean pointed out.

“That was a fun drive,” Cas said, grinning. “You had this kind of whole-body smile…” They’d driven out to the middle of nowhere, then promptly forgot about their plans for a picnic and had sex in the back seat.

“And you wonder why Gabriel keeps complaining he’s the only one doing any work around here.” Dean shoved Cas out of the way and checked his stubble in the mirror. “Nope, don’t need to shave.”

“You said that yesterday as well.” Cas didn’t mind. The stubble was sexy. He’d told Dean that a few times in the past day or so. “Just don’t grow a beard.”

“Stubble, sexy. Beard, no. Got it.”

Driving the Impala was good, but strange. Driving away from the hospital without Dean was stranger. This was Dean’s car, his Baby, and Cas considered it a hell of an honor to be trusted with her.

He parked her not far from the center of town, then wandered for hours, looking for the perfect birthday gift. He thought about buying something for Baby, but Dean had plenty of things for his car. He had more than enough tools, and a full cleaning and detailing kit, and covering Baby’s leather seats would be a sin.

Cas sighed and moved on, considering and then deciding against everything from a nice watch to a _Star Wars_ box set to things for Brighton and Jackdaw.

Finally, he wandered into a store that sold collectibles from just about every popular movie, tv show, game or book.

The young man at the counter must have seen him looking lost, because suddenly, the guy was beside him. “Can I help you find anything, sir?”

Cas tilted his head at the young guy. “I’m looking for a birthday gift for my b-” maybe not a good idea to admit to being a gay man in a store like this, he thought “-best friend.”

“Budget?”

“Assume I have no limit,” Cas said with a hum.

“Tell me about him.”

“He’ll be twenty-three. He’s a paramedic, drives a ‘67 Impala, and is a bigger nerd than he’ll admit to. He made me watch _Game of Thrones_ with him, introduced me to _Star Wars_ , and pretends he isn’t big on reading but has the complete works of Tolkien on his bookshelf, next to four Dickens novels and _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_.” Cas knew that because Dean’s bookshelf was once _his_ bookshelf. Dean had commandeered it within minutes of officially moving in.

“Is he a gamer?”

Cas shrugged. “He has an xbox but I haven’t seen him use it.” Also true. Dean was too busy with other things - foremost being sleeping with Cas - to bother with gaming.

“How big’s his house?”

“Huge. But I have to be able to fit whatever I buy in the Impala...”

“Hm, well, I have a few suggestions for you…” The store employee paused. “You’re driving his car? Must be a pretty fuckin’ close friend if he’s letting you do that.”

Cas went soft pink. “Yeah… Well, I, uh, I let him drive my Mustang, so…”

“Buddy, if he’s your boyfriend, just come out and say it. No one cares.”

Cas relaxed and decided this store was going to get a lot more of his money in the future.

The store had some classic car memorabilia. Cas ended up buying a poster, a mug, a t-shirt (medium, because though Dean was normally a large, the large would have been huge on him), and, as a joke, a calendar full of photos of scantily clad women laying all over the same red Impala.

And he bought a remote control R2-D2.

He drove home, stole some wrapping paper off Balt, and spent the next several hours trying to work out how to wrap the remote control R2. It was boxed, but it was ‘life-sized’ and even with Hael’s help he couldn’t work out how to make the sadly insufficient amount of wrapping paper he had cover the entire box.

In the end, Gabriel suggested hiding it somewhere Dean wouldn’t see it. “Like my wing of the house!”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “I don’t trust you. You’d play with it.”

Gabe pouted. “I would never!”

“Yeah, you would,” Hael said. “I’ll handle it.”

Cas pulled the Impala up outside the hospital fifteen minutes early. He was greeted by a cheerful five-foot-six redhead.

“Hi! You must be Cas. I’m Charlie Bradbury.” She grinned at him. “I’ve known Dean for four and a half years, you know, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been since he met you. He was talking about how you help him with his horses _all day_.”

“I owe him the help.” Cas grinned back. “I got him into horses in the first place.”

“Well, you just _have_ to come to the party we’re throwing for him,” Charlie informed him. “He doesn’t know about it, so you’ll have to come up with some excuse to come inside with him. It’s the day before his birthday, ‘cause he begged his birthday off.”

Cas laughed. “That’s because he’s got a horse show. I’m hoping he gets to celebrate his birthday with his first open win.”

Dean had been showing amateur for a couple of months now and had several wins to his name. He’d come to the decision to step it up a division on his own. Cas had never been more proud.

“Well, wish him luck for me; I have to get back to work now.” Charlie shot Cas one last smile, then turned and went inside. Cas was still grinning when Dean slid into the passenger’s seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the chapter is a bit rushed. I didn't want it to run any longer than it did.
> 
> When I go back, edit and revise, it'll be a very different, less rushed end. This is my first draft of a story that I'm hoping will become a published novel (obviously once I change all the names), so it has a lot of polishing, editing and cutting that needs doing.


	14. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, man.
> 
> This chapter.
> 
> 10 solid hours went into this. It was so freaking hard to write. I hate this chapter and I'm glad it's over and done with.

Charlie should have given him an idea on how to dress, Cas thought, frantically searching both closet and tallboy for something to wear. He had a suit, but that seemed too formal; everyone else would probably be in paramedic uniforms. Jeans and a tshirt seemed too relaxed, even if he wore a Novak Equestrian polo.

The problem was, he didn’t really have anything in-between. Every article of clothing he owned was for farm work, riding, formal occasions, or horse shows. And he was fast running out of time to decide; the sound of the shower running in the ensuite cut off and if Dean saw him stressing over what to wear, the surprise wouldn’t be a surprise…

Dean wandered back into the bedroom, wearing only a towel. Cas went red and looked at his feet, remembering last night. Dean had started off dominant, and Cas had tried his best, but had just frozen up. Dean was relaxed about it and just went submissive, but it was still humiliating. There was meant to be a degree of trust, which Cas had been unable to muster.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, “what’s the matter?”

“Just… wish I didn’t panic last night…” Cas looked away. “I wanted you in control, I just…”

“It’s okay, Cassie. It’s not your fault. Like you said when I first started with horses… only as much as you’re comfortable with.” Dean smiled. “One step at a time, right?”

“Right.” Giving up on dressing appropriately, Cas fished a polo and a pair of jeans out of the tallboy and pulled them on.

“You know those shirts are my favorite on you,” Dean said. “It’s a shame I have to go to work, ‘cause I like them even more when I’m pulling them _off_ you…” He waggled his eyebrows like a Vaudeville villain.

Cas snorted. “Alright, Casanova, keep it in your pants.”

“What pants?” Dean asked, too innocent.

“Just get dressed. You’ll be late.” Cas threw a pair of socks at the paramedic, who caught them and tossed them back. Cas ducked, a little too late, and the socks hit him on the shoulder.

“Damn. Missed,” Dean joked.

“Twenty-two going on five,” Cas said, shaking his head.

“It’s no fun being an adult _all_ the time!”

Cas pulled the Impala into the staff parking lot, ignoring Dean’s raised eyebrow. “Which spot is yours?”

“We don’t have specific spots,” Dean said, “but I usually park in Row G, space four.”

Space four turned out to be already filled, but space five wasn’t, so Cas parked the car there instead.

“Cas, what are you doing?” a very confused Dean asked.

With good reason, Cas thought - he’d never parked the car and come inside before. “You’ve met all my coworkers. I want to meet yours.”

“You don’t have coworkers,” Dean pointed out. “You have brothers and staff.”

“You’re splitting hairs, Dean.” Cas was too nervous for this. “The point is, you’ve met all the people I work with.”

But Dean knew something was up. “Hang on, that’s Uriel’s car in my spot. Chuck’s crews and his crews never overlap…”

“You’re overthinking it.” Cas got out of the car and waited for Dean to give it up and head inside.

“Alright, fine. But you’re up to something. I can feel it.”

Cas followed Dean inside, a couple of steps behind the paramedic, listening to him chatter about how he felt good about Jackdaw’s performance in the leadup to the show, but wasn’t so sure about Brighton. Cas agreed - the big Oldenburg was not the novice-friendly horse Dean had been promised, and while athletic and talented, was a rather difficult ride. It was to be Brighton’s first show in Novak Equestrian colors and Cas didn’t think it would go well.

Dean had a good attitude when it came to dealing with difficult horses at shows. If he got into the arena and then out again without Brighton throwing him, it was a successful ride, regardless of what the round itself was like.

The paramedics’ lounge was dark. Dean stopped, looked around, then hit the light switch.

“Surprise!”

Dean blinked. Cas grinned, and someone snapped a photo.

“Happy birthday, you’re not working, blah blah blah et cetera,” said Charlie. “Uriel and his crews are working. Chuck kicked them out to the rigs.”

“Cas, this is Chuck and Garth, they’re the most senior crew here,” Dean said, indicating each man in turn.

Cas already knew Chuck, but hadn’t met Garth. He was a scrawny guy who was somehow strong enough to nearly crush Cas’ hand.

Charlie bounced up to him, hugged him, and then stepped aside. “Cas, Dorothy. Dorothy, Cas.”

Cas blinked and shook Dorothy’s hand, trying not to be too shocked when she pulled him into a hug. He wasn’t used to strangers being so openly affectionate.

“And Anna, of course.” Dean indicated the redhead standing by the CD deck.

“Anna’s our DJ for the night,” Charlie explained. “No complaining about the music, alright? There’ll be classic rock later. Hit it, DJ!”

 

Cas hadn’t expected to be this at ease with Dean’s colleagues. He was a fairly introverted person by nature, and would have been nervous around them, but they made him feel like he belonged - even though, as the only non-paramedic there, he clearly didn’t.

Dean laughed loudly at one of Garth’s cringe-worthy puns. Chuck tossed a beer to Charlie, who eyed it suspiciously, then opened it, only to be sprayed with beer foam. Dorothy giggled and downed another shot - _how_ many was that now? Cas had no idea.

Anna sat down beside Cas and offered him a fourth slice of cake.

“I’m good,” he said, patting his stomach. “If I eat another bite I’ll explode.”

“Can’t have that!” Anna put the cake on the coffee table and stretched. “So this horse show tomorrow…”

Cas grinned. “Dean has two horses in Open division. I’m competing, too, but on a client’s horse, as a professional.”

“How do you think he’s going to go?”

“No idea. It’ll be his first Open. I think Jackdaw will help him out if he freezes, but Brighton’s going to be challenging.” Cas shrugged. “We’re a little disappointed with the draw. Dean’s up first with Jack and then sixteenth with Brighton. And I got a shocking draw… I hate going last. The surface is always churned up by all the other horses… Middle is best but failing that, I prefer first. But I have the experience for it. Dean needs to learn from the other riders as much as he can.”

“So basically, it’s a lot like emergency medicine - throwing someone in the deep end doesn’t get them anywhere.”

“Depends on the person. I won my first world cup qualifier. Dean usually does well - he’s getting better performance out of Jack than I ever did. I’ve never seen that horse go so well for anyone.”

Dean leaned over the back of the couch. “Didn’t know you felt that way, Cas.”

“Shut up, you. I tell you that every goddamn day.” Cas chuckled. “We have to leave the farm at about four tomorrow morning.”

“Blegh,” said Anna.

“We’ll wash and braid the horses tonight,” Dean clarified. “That’s what we usually do.”

“Yeah, and then you don’t get up to help me load the truck,” Cas teased. “That’s always me.”

“Come on, you don’t mind. You’d wake me up if you did.”

“That’s true.” Cas fiddled with his phone, wondering if the horse talk was boring Anna yet. “You’re going to have to get used to early mornings eventually, though.”

“You keep telling me that, but you always let me sleep in anyway…”

“Yeah, well, you’re so cute when you’re- hang on, is that _Yellow_?” Cas listened to the music for a few bars. Definitely _Yellow_. He bounced to his feet, grabbed Dean by the wrists, and dragged his paramedic to an open section of floor. “Keep the Coldplay going, Anna!”

He’d only just managed to coax Dean into dancing when _Yellow_ ended. The next song was _Viva la Vida_. That was harder to dance to, so they sort of swayed on the spot. Cas hummed and Dean sang.

Charlie found a video camera and recorded, despite Dean’s protests.

Dean was on the table singing loudly along to _Highway to Hell_. He wasn’t drunk - in fact he’d only had two beers. He did it because he could.

Cas watched him with a fond smile. That beautiful, crazy, now shirtless paramedic was _his_.

The song ended. Anna caught Cas’ eye with a mischievous grin and the next thing he knew, a familiar riff was playing and Dean had pulled him up onto the table.

“ _He was a fast machine_ ,” Dean sang. “ _He kept his motor clean_.”

Cas grinned and sang back, “ _He was the best damn man that I ever seen_!”

“ _He had the sightless eyes tellin’ me no lies_!”

“ _Knockin’ me out with those American thighs_!”

Someone cheered. Dean grinned at his colleagues. “ _Takin’ more than his share, he had me gaspin’ for air_!”

Cas forgot about the audience. “ _He told me to come but I was already there_!”

“ _Cause the walls start shakin_ ’.”

“ _The earth was quakin_ ’.”

“ _My mind was achin_ ’!”

They both sang, “ _And we were makin’ it!_

“ _You shook me all night long!_

“ _Yeah, you shook me all night long_!”

“No one needs to know about your love life, Winchester,” Charlie teased. “Get off the table before it collapses.”

Cas snorted and slipped down off the table, pulling Dean with him.

It was nearly eleven by the time Cas pulled the Impala up outside the homestead. Dean was fast asleep with his head resting on Cas’ shoulder. That wouldn’t do. There were three horses to wash and braid before they could sleep.

Grimacing at what he was about to do, Cas turned the radio to a current hits station… and blared a Justin Bieber song.

Dean woke up instantly, scrambling for the radio controls. “The fuck did you do that for?”

“You have horses to wash,” Cas informed him. “You’re not allowed to sleep yet. Unless you want to get up early and wash them in the morning.”

“I don’t think so!” Dean turned the radio off and got out of the car. “If I’m washing all three, you’re braiding.”

“Deal.” Cas didn’t mind braiding. Dean found it difficult and frustrating, but Cas had braided so many horses so many times in his years competing that he could braid three horses in under half an hour. Easily. “You can sleep in as late as you like, but I have to be up at three to load the truck, so I’m going to bed. I’ll braid tomorrow. If you sleep in the house, I’ll leave without you.”

He was going to need _so much_ Red Bull…

“I know the routine, Cas,” Dean reminded him. “Go. Sleep.”

Cas lay awake. It was sometime around two. He’d slept, but not for long, and if he went back to sleep now, he wouldn’t be awake in an hour.

He sighed and slipped out from under Dean’s arm. It was only a three hour drive to the show venue, a beautiful facility with three indoor jumping arenas, and because it was so close, they hadn’t thought to head there and camp overnight. Unfortunately for Cas, that meant he had to drive for three hours… on less than that amount of sleep. And he couldn’t take a nap when he got there. Dean needed him awake, then he had Abaddon to ride.

The adrenaline of competing was going to have to be enough to keep him awake, because Abaddon hated the smell of caffeine, so he couldn’t drink so much as a cup of coffee within four hours of riding her. If she was one of his horses, he wouldn’t care so much, but she was a client’s. Therefore, he couldn’t knowingly upset her at a show.

“Bloody bitch of a redhead,” he grumbled, letting himself out of the truck. He was awake, so he might as well get to work.

The stablehands had forgotten to stuff the hay nets. By the time Cas had filled three nets per horse, his nose was running like a tap, his arms itched, and he never wanted to touch hay again. He sneezed and went to hang three of the nets in the truck. Once that was done, he stuffed the other six into a storage compartment, sneezing three more times.

“Stupid hay.”

Draining and refilling the truck’s water tank took twenty minutes and left a large puddle underneath and around the vehicle. He wouldn’t have bothered, except he wasn’t sure if Brighton would touch unfamiliar water, and therefore it was important to have a fresh supply of water that he knew the Oldenburg would drink.

He fetched the grooming kits next, and then lugged three saddles, three bridles, and six sets of horse boots from the tack room. A second trip brought saddle pads, spare girths, a spare halter and lead, two lunging cavessons, two lunge lines, and what felt like half a ton of first aid kit. Some competitors didn’t bother with first aid kits, but Cas never relied on anybody else to have something on the off chance he needed it. His kit was nearly as well-stocked as Jo’s clinic, and had proven handy on several occasions. Most other competitors knew that if they needed something in a genuine emergency and the competition on-site vet didn’t have it, they could ask at the Novak Equestrian truck.

Quietly, he ducked inside to fetch the clothes they would need. Dean always got drenched hosing his horses down, so Cas shoved a change of basically everything into his duffle bag, from Novak Equestrian polo to breeches to underwear and even socks. Four pairs of white breeches went in on top, and then Cas fetched their white button-down business shirts, ties and show jackets from the closet.

On his way back past the kitchen, he quietly ‘borrowed’ a few cans of Red Bull from the fridge.

“Tack, grooming gear, first aid, clothes, breeches, shirts, jackets, ties, boots- ah, boots!” Cas dropped the duffle bag and the Red Bull onto the kitchen bench and draped the shirts, jackets and ties over the back of a chair, then sprinted back to fetch their riding boots - two pairs each, the daily wear boots they would use for getting the horses ready and then the show boots they would wear while in the ring.

Once all of _that_ was stuffed into storage areas in the truck, Cas ran through a mental checklist, realized he’d forgotten meals for the horses, and jogged to the feed room to make those up. They were going to camp overnight at the grounds and head home in the morning, so that was two breakfasts and one dinner per horse. Plus a stupid amount of carrots in case someone actually won.

It was almost three-thirty before he finally got Jackdaw out of his stable and put the lanky black in the crossties. Dean had put all three horses in their navy blue Novak Equestrian show rugs after washing them. Cas smiled appreciatively, slipped Jack’s rug, hood and tail bag off, and got to work.

At four, he threw Abaddon’s rug back over her body, fastened it up, and loaded her onto the trailer. She was, mercifully, the last of the three.

Cas ran through his mental checklist one last time, realized he’d forgotten the riding crops and lunge whips, and sprinted for the tack room to fetch them.

The truck finally rolled out of the gates fifteen minutes later than intended, and Cas opened the first can of Red Bull.

 

Three hours and two cans later, Cas pulled the truck up outside a small diner and went to wake Dean.

Dean, however, was already awake, rummaging through the duffle bag for his polos. He found one and pulled it on, beaming. “This will be the first time I’ve worn these at a show.”

“You’re officially one of us now,” Cas said, poking him in the ribs. “No longer our sponsored learner rider, but Dean Winchester of Novak Equestrian. I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, going pink.

“I’m going to order breakfast. Want you to check and feed the horses. Waffles for luck?”

“Always.”

Dean paused to watch Cas go, then turned towards the door from the living quarters to the horse box. Jackdaw’s low nicker and Brighton’s insistent stamping already echoed from the other side. Both geldings demanded breakfast.

A shrill whinny sounded. That was Abaddon, in all her redheaded bitchy glory. Dean chuckled and stepped through the door, then opened the cabinet that Cas usually stored the horses’ meals in. They were labeled - ‘Jackdaw breakfast day 1’ and so on - though both Dean and Cas could tell the difference between their horses’ meals at a glance. Dean could tell Jack’s meals from Brighton’s by weight. Jack ate three times as much.

Dean fed each horse, straightened one of Jackdaw’s shipping boots, and checked Abaddon’s bare legs for any nicks. She was the only horse at Novak Equestrian that traveled with naked legs. The reason for that was that she was an absolute bitch to put shipping boots on, and bandages wouldn’t stay up. Nobody wanted to get their head kicked in just to make sure nothing happened in a truck that was about as safe as they came. The likelihood of any mishaps was so low that even Crowley agreed it was best not to bother booting his mare for travel.

She hadn’t injured herself yet, and was highly unlikely to ever do so.

Satisfied that everyone was fine, Dean backed out of the horse box, sat down on the bed, and waited for Cas to return with the waffles.

They ate together, laughing and listening to Jackdaw’s soft whuffling. Apparently he wanted more food. His enormous breakfast and almost full hay net weren’t enough.

“He eats like a pony,” Cas said. “Too much isn’t enough.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be physically possible to feed Tiger enough to keep him happy on the road.” Dean grinned. “That colt of yours never stops eating.”

“He’s growing!” Cas protested.

“And if he gets any taller, Gabe’s going to steal him for eventing.”

“No, he’s too slow to event. Balt wants him for dressage, though.” Cas laughed and shoved Dean’s shoulder. “You need to expand your show team. You’re in the saddle as much as I am but you only have the two.”

“I’ll get to it.” Dean waved one hand vaguely. “Bela Talbot has a filly for sale that I really like the look of.”

“Don’t buy a horse off Bela,” Cas said, shaking his head. “They’re all nice horses but worse than Brighton to ride. I can handle it, but you won’t be able to.”

“She’s only two, Cas. She’s not broke yet.” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, for me… I mean I ride through all of Brighton’s crap, but I’ve only really got a few months’ experience.”

Cas hummed. “You always have me to help you out if you need it, but I definitely wouldn’t recommend a young horse for you yet… give it a few years. Meanwhile, go for something about eight to ten. You have a couple of older horses, so you’ll want something young enough to take over when they retire, but old enough to have a brain.”

Dean chuckled. “I still want that filly. Maybe I’ll have you train her for me.”

“Depends… how nice is she?”

“I’ll show you when we get home…” Dean poked Cas’ shoulder. “She’s a lot like Berry in build, just sixteen hands high and grey.”

“Buy the filly,” Cas said instantly. Dean laughed at him, finished both servings of waffles, and climbed into the truck’s driver’s seat.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. But I’ll definitely tell Bela I want to look this filly over.” Dean shrugged. “Hopefully she hasn’t had time to turn this one into a psycho.”

“If she has, I should be able to retrain her before she’s old enough to start under saddle,” Cas said. “A horse’s basic temperament usually shows through handling issues. There’s a chance she’s skitzo regardless of training. Look at Abaddon. Some mares are just bitchy. But if she’s got a good temperament…”

“This is exactly why I want you to come with me when I go.” Dean put the truck in gear and pulled onto the road. “So where’s this showground?”

Cas pressed a button on the GPS. “There. I can’t be assed giving you directions. I need a nap.”

Dean didn’t argue. He just tuned the radio to a classic rock station, turned the radio down, and sang softly along. Cas fell asleep to such AC/DC classics as _Back in Black_ , _Thunderstruck_ and _TNT_.


	15. Friends, Rivals and Difficult Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horse show time!
> 
> The whole show was meant to fit in this chapter. That didn't happen. So you get one more sort of fluffy chapter. Bear in mind chapter 16 will be the LAST happy fluffy (ish...) chapter for a while so enjoy it while it lasts.
> 
> Also, with this chapter, I have won NaNoWriMo, so updates may slow a little. I'm still going to aim for at least one chapter a week.

Dean glanced over at Cas, who still fast asleep. Unloading the truck would be much easier with Cas’ help, but Dean didn’t have the heart to wake him. He dropped the tailgate and the side door from inside the cab, then vaulted down to the living quarters and went through to the horse box.

He unloaded Abaddon first and led her around to a tie ring on the side of the truck. Then he led Jackdaw out of the side door, tied the lanky gelding to another ring, and looked around for someone who might be able to help him with Brighton. The big Oldenburg was kicking up a real stink and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle his horse’s antics.

But this was the Novak Equestrian truck, and it seemed everyone assumed he could manage on his own.

He went back to the living quarters. The lunge lines were normally stowed in a storage compartment under the bed, and it would be much easier to handle Brighton if he had a longer lead.

Lunge line in hand, he returned to the horse box, clipped it onto Brighton’s halter, unlatched the divider keeping him in the truck, and got out of the way.

Brighton exploded out of the truck, hit the end of the line, and reared up so high Dean worried he would lose his balance and fall backwards.

“Whoa!” he called, walking towards his horse and rolling the lunge line back up. “Whoa there. Easy, boy. Whoa! Settle down. Good boy.”

The big Oldenburg was still tense, and patches of nervous sweat started to show, darkening his bright bay hide on his neck and flanks. Dean still considered it progress. At least all four of his hooves were on the ground.

“You might not want to let him do that again,” a British woman informed him. “Mr. Novak doesn’t like it when his stablehands are so… incompetent.”

Dean frowned. “I’m not a stablehand, the horse is mine. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He turned his back on her and ran a hand over Brighton’s shoulder. “Good boy. Looks like I’ll have to let you work the stupid out before I get on your back today, hey, big guy?”

“Winchester. Huh. You’ve been talking to me about the filly I’m selling.”

So, this was Bela Talbot. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to tell you I’ve spoken with Cas and we want to look her over.”

“Should have told me you represented Novak Equestrian.” Bela’s voice was full of false warmth. “According to Balthazar, I owe you, after I sold you Sterling. Such a sad story, but you see… that? That wasn’t my fault. I might have… implied he was an easier ride than he was, but really, who takes such things on face value?”

Dean bristled, and would have hit her, except he had never hit a woman in his life and didn’t intend to start now. “You misrepresented the horse, which resulted in serious injuries to him, and to Cas. I think I’ll take Balt’s side on this one.”

“Well. In that case - and only because Balthazar is threatening to sue - you can have her for ten thousand if you want. Half price. Happy?”

“No,” Dean growled. “I want you to apologize to Cas. Couldn’t care less about the money. It’s the principle.”

“Ugh, _fine_ , where is he?”

“Asleep. You can apologize later. Now go worry about your own horses.” He had three horses to get settled in, and in a few hours, he was going to have to wake Cas. Walking the course was easy enough, but he needed Cas’ advice, because he was up first and couldn’t learn from the other riders.

“Aw, I was hoping to talk to _you_ some more.” Bela was really determined to be a pain in the ass, apparently.

Dean sighed. “Alright, whatever, just don’t get in the way.”

“Which classes are you in?”

“Just the one. Open three-foot-six with both my geldings. Cas is in the Grand Prix with the mare.”

“Ah yes, Abaddon of Novak. The ginger witch. Fergus Crowley’s favorite.” Bela made a grand, exaggerated hand gesture towards the chestnut mare. “Good luck getting her jumping boots on without her killing you.”

Dean shrugged. “You get very good at dodging hooves handling Brighton. It won’t be a problem.”

“I heard you’ve only been around horses for a few months, Winchester. Are you sure you have the experience to handle it?” The concern in her voice was entirely fake.

“I have a very good teacher.” He ripped open the velcro tabs holding Brighton’s shipping boots closed and pulled them off, dodging as the horse shifted and tried to stomp on his foot. “Hey! Behave!”

Brighton shook his head. It was probably a coincidence.

“Wish you luck with that one,” Bela said, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I don’t think I’d be stupid enough to ride him.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Dean replied. “I can handle it. He’s always like this.”

He moved on to Jackdaw. As ever, Jack stood stock still. He pinned his ears at Brighton once, but was otherwise perfectly behaved. Dean didn’t blame him for being pissed off with the Oldenburg. Jack just wanted to stand and relax, and Brighton kept bumping him.

“So who are you taking to the stables first, and who’s going last?” Bela wondered, watching the horses.

“Brighton first so he and Jack don’t fight. Abaddon second, and Jack last because he doesn’t care either way.” Dean hummed. “I was going to take Abaddon first, but I’d rather my horses didn’t injure each other.”

“Responsible of you.”

Dean untied Brighton. “Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do. I’m sure you’re busy, too.”

“I have stablehands, sweetheart.”

“So do we.” He was getting incredibly frustrated with Bela. She was a condescending bitch. “But we actually _like_ horses, so we don’t mind doing actual work.”

“Leave the boy alone, Bela.”

Dean had never expected to be so pleased to hear Crowley’s voice. For a short guy, he was actually pretty intimidating when he wanted to be; Bela huffed and flounced away.

Crowley smirked and turned to stroke his mare’s shoulder. “Thought I’d watch my girl compete.”

“You’ll be here a while,” Dean said. “She and Cas are going last.”

“Ah. Well, I happen to be in the market for another horse.” Crowley untied his mare and turned her around while Dean backed Brighton away from the truck. “Possibly another rider.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. If that wasn’t an invitation, he didn’t know what was. “I might be available. Depends on how today goes.” It was more pressure to do well, but Dean was a paramedic; he performed best under pressure.

“Indeed.” Crowley walked about ten feet away from Brighton, giving the ornery gelding a wide berth. “He’s a firecracker.”

Dean nodded. “He’s always like this. Cas keeps telling me that if I can get the dirty stops out of him, he’ll be a superb pro-level horse. I’m just aiming to get him in and out of the arena without getting thrown.”

“Smart lad.”

Brighton tossed his head, pulling Dean off-balance, and then tried to get loose. Dean just let the lunge line slip through his hands until he could get the leverage to yank the gelding to a halt. “Behave yourself!”

“Well handled,” someone said.

Dean glanced over to the guy. “Thanks.”

“Thought you were one of Castiel’s stablehands at first.” The stranger smiled. “But it looks like Novak Equestrian has _four_ riders now. And you have difficult horses, there.”

“I’m not riding Abaddon,” Dean clarified. “Crowley doesn’t like anyone but Cas and himself handling her.”

“Give yourself some credit, Winchester,” Crowley said, still keeping his distance from Brighton.

“I heard you telling Bela Talbot that bay gelding is your horse,” the stranger told Dean. “I’m sure Cas has told you how to handle a horse like that, but I wanted to offer you a word of advice. You’re in Open, right? You don’t look like a pro.”

Dean smiled. “Advice would be lovely, but I do have to get these horses settled in. My other horse is still tied to the truck.”

Before he knew it, the stranger was walking on his left, one hand on his shoulder. “My name’s Jake. I’ve been riding difficult horses since before Cas was born, and about fifteen years ago I discovered this trick…”

Dean wasn’t certain he _liked_ the trick, but he tried it anyway, when Brighton turned around to bite him. He jabbed the big gelding in the ribs with a hoof pick. Brighton pinned his ears back, but stopped shuffling about, and didn’t try to bite again.

It worked, but Dean decided then and there not to do it again. There were gentler ways. This was quick and effective, but felt dirty.

There was an announcement over the PA. The courses were open for walking. Dean dropped the hoof pick back into his grooming kit and then picked the entire kit up, heading back to the truck to wake Cas.

The Open course was a lot more technical than anything Dean had met in competition before, but he trained over Cas’ course - after dropping the jumps to around four feet in height - so it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

“I’ll take them wide from one to two,” he said to Cas. “This isn’t a jumpoff, so I can play it a bit safer. Two to three is a nice simple line, looks about four strides. Brighton will take it in three. I’ll take four diagonally, but I need to be careful not to let them back off to it, because Brighton in particular is likely to try to stop. Tight turn from four to five, which will be challenging on both of them, but we can do it.”

Cas nodded. “Just watch the liverpool at six. Jack will jump it well. Brighton… you know what he’s like with water.”

“I don’t expect to get over six with Brighton,” Dean agreed. “It’ll be a victory if he doesn’t throw me into it.”

“Jack will find the striding for seven A and B challenging,” Cas said. “I can see from here it’s slightly longer than a standard stride. Just keep him forward and balanced around the curve into it and he should do the rest.”

“It walked as a stride and a quarter.” Cas was right, Jack had a relatively short stride and wasn’t physically able to lengthen it much. The combination at seven wouldn’t ride smoothly. “Eight should be easy. The line to nine will be a challenge. Jack isn’t great at laterals so I’ll have to turn him.”

“Watch how you take nine. It’ll affect your approach to ten.” Cas indicated the two fences on the course map. “If you take it wrong you’ll have to go around fence twelve. You’re already taking one to two wide, so you can’t afford that. Ten to eleven is nice and simple… but don’t get complacent with your approach to twelve.”

“It’s on tricky striding,” Dean said. “Nine and a half of Jack’s strides. I’ll have to put in ten, I think.”

“He’ll look at fourteen and sixteen.” Cas glanced at the two fences. “He’s never liked brush fences. Just keep him forward and he’ll jump, but he won’t like them.”

“On the off chance Brighton actually jumps the liverpool, he shouldn’t struggle with the technical aspects, but I doubt he’ll jump eleven. He doesn’t seem to like triple bars.” Dean hummed. “I know my jumpoff; it’s one, two, four, six, seven, eleven, thirteen, fourteen. I need to get Jack ready. Can you tack Brighton up for me? He’s going to need a long warmup… I’ll go straight from Jack to him.”

“Sure. I’ll walk my course while you’re tacking Jack up.”

Jackdaw trotted eagerly around the competition arena, coming to an easy halt in front of the judges’ box. Dean ducked his head and touched the peak of his riding helmet. He had a number, but introduced himself and his horse anyway. “Dean Winchester on Jackdaw of Novak.”

“Good luck,” the judge said.

“Thanks.”

The air horn sounded and Dean pushed Jack straight from halt to canter. He had forty-five seconds to pass through the start markers. He did it in fifteen. Jackdaw jumped well. He had a bit of a look at the tray of water under fence six - the water that made it a liverpool - but promptly forgot about it when Dean touched his shoulder with the riding crop.

Dean screwed up the approach to nine and had to go wide to ten, but made up the wasted time by pushing Jack almost to a gallop for the rest of the course. As he settled his mount back to a trot, the bell rang for him to ride the jumpoff course.

Jackdaw protested the extremely tight line from one to two, but did as he was asked. It was even tighter from two to four, and four to six. Six and seven rode exactly the same as they had before. Dean turned Jack almost on the spot for the approach to seven, and again to eleven. The turn to thirteen was brutal. Jack stumbled and Dean ended up on the lanky black’s neck for two strides. He couldn’t take the time to find his stirrups, so had to take thirteen and fourteen without them. Jackdaw landed a little awkwardly from fourteen and Dean found himself clinging desperately to his horse’s side. He couldn’t fall now. Not after such a great jumpoff.

He clung on as Jack cantered through the finish markers.

“Now whoa.”

It took nothing more than that vocal command to bring Jackdaw to a smooth halt. Dean couldn’t get himself back into the saddle, so he let go, landing on his feet. “Good boy, Jack. Well done.”

“In a display of incredible tenacity, Winchester sets the bar high with a jumpoff time of just forty-three point four seconds!”

There had been other commentary. Dean just hadn’t heard it; his focus on Jackdaw and the course was so complete that not even his pager tone could have broken it. And he’d learned to respond to that tone instantly, whether he consciously heard it or not.

“That was a great time,” Cas told him as he walked back into the warmup arena. “I thought you were a goner for sure, though!”

Dean took Brighton’s reins, handed Jack to Cas, and mounted his second horse. “I wasn’t going to let go. I’d have hated for that round to go to waste. Jack was brilliant out there.”

“I’ll hose him off and get him dry,” Cas said. “You focus on Brighton.”

Brighton was difficult, as expected. Dean just wanted him to walk, but he insisted on jogging and throwing his head.

After fifteen minutes of tiny circles, the Oldenburg finally settled into a relaxed walk. Dean let him walk for a little while, then nudged him up into a trot. He only had about five minutes to warm up over fences now, and that would depend on whether the horses and riders before him went clear or not.

Dean touched his outside leg to Brighton’s side, just behind the girth. As asked, Brighton jumped into canter.

Two explosive bucks later, Dean sat in the dirt, blinking, with Brighton’s reins still in his hands. The horse stood looking at him, and he’d have sworn that the bastard was laughing. He sighed, got to his feet, and got back on. His second attempt at cantering the bay Oldenburg was more successful.

“Winchester?”

“Give me a sec,” Dean called to the gate steward. “Just need to pop him over a jump.” He did so, and Brighton jumped it smoothly.

Too smoothly.

Dean had _that_ feeling in the pit of his stomach - the one that meant Brighton was going to throw everything but the kitchen sink at him, and there was nothing he could do about it. But he wasn’t going to scratch. No matter what happened with Brighton, he was going to make sure it was a successful ride.

Brighton burst into the arena barely in control. Dean hauled his head around and forced him sideways until he stopped being an idiot, and then trotted him up to the judges’ stand.

“Back again, Winchester? Difficult horse you’ve got there.”

He laughed and tipped his helmet. “I’ve lost my mind. He’s always like this. This is Bright and Early.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “ _That_ thing’s back on the circuit?”

 _Oh, shit_ , Dean thought. “I haven’t had him long. We’re hoping we can settle him down.”

“Well… don’t die.”

Brighton burst forwards at the sound of the air horn. Dean hauled his head around and pushed him sideways again, then circled him towards the first fence. “Steady. Easy, there. Steeeeaaaaady.”

The horse objected to Dean’s attempts to control his speed and bolted at the fence, full speed. Dean hauled him back to a more reasonable speed. This was even worse than usual.

Somehow, they made it to the other side of the first fence in one piece. Brighton stopped and reared twice, and Dean decided that for everybody’s sake, he needed to retire from this competition.

Between a bucking fit and another rear, Dean held up his right hand and shook his head.

“And don’t sound the horn!” he yelled. It took him five minutes to settle his horse enough to dismount. As he led the big bay Oldenburg out of the arena, the next competitor stopped him.

“You’re braver than I am…”

Dean grimaced. “He’s not normally quite this bad.”

“That’s a demon horse.”

“Believe it or not, he’s actually better than he was.”

The other guy shrugged and rode into the arena.

Cas was waiting at the far side of the warmup arena. “So?”

“Well,” Dean said, shaking his head, “he didn’t dump me. Or stop at anything. We got over the first jump…”

“A successful ride, then.”

“Guess so.” Pulling off his helmet, Dean started towards the stables. Cas stayed at his side.

“Have you seen the leaderboard?”

“No, I was trying not to be killed,” Dean joked.

“You’re still in first place. There’ve only been two other clear rounds.” Cas hugged him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“There are quite a few riders still to compete. I haven’t won yet.” Dean stepped over a pile of horse manure and paused to unlatch Brighton’s stable. “How many riders before you’re up in the pro ring?”

“Forty-three.” Cas looked exhausted and nervous. “And Crowley’s here, so the pressure’s on.”

“How about this… I’ll get Abaddon ready. You get some more sleep, and I’ll wake you when you need to start warming her up?” Dean bent down to take Brighton’s jumping boots off. He didn’t expect Cas to agree.

“Alright… he didn’t seem to mind you getting her off the truck and settling her in.”

Concern played across Dean’s face, but he shoved the feeling away. Cas needed more sleep.


	16. Trouble Incoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to be fluffy...
> 
> Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh

Cas told himself he was just anxious and overtired, but sleep wasn’t helping. He rolled over and put his head under the pillow. The light was too bright and sounds were too loud. Bone-deep exhaustion made him desperate to sleep, but a strange kind of pressure in his head made it impossible.

Huffing, he got up. Trying to sleep was getting him nowhere. Perhaps a shower would refresh him.

He’d been in the horse truck’s shower for twenty minutes, and was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, when Dean came to the truck looking for him.

“Cas?”

“Be right out.” Cas hauled himself up and cut the spray, which had long since gone cold. He grabbed a towel and hurriedly dried himself off.

Once in his breeches - and halfway through buttoning his shirt - he left the tiny bathroom.

“Don’t bother,” Dean said, looking him up and down. “You’re not scheduled to ride for another fourteen riders yet, but I’ve been talking to Crowley-”

“Dean. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” Crowley had already texted him. Abaddon wasn’t being a bitch, for once. It was rare, but it did happen. “Crowley’s horse is fine. She’s having a good day, is all. He’s been with her all day, and I was in and out of the stables the whole time you were riding. There’s nothing wrong with her.” He finished buttoning his shirt, found his tie (pre-tied with an elastic neck because he was lazy and that was a thing) and slipped it on. “You’re allowed to think I should scratch, but you could at least have the balls to come out and say it, instead of coming up with bullshit excuses about there being something wrong with the horse.”

“Cas, last time I listened to you when you said you were fine, you were most certainly not fine. I spent eight hours holding a bucket for you.” Dean reached up for Cas’ jacket and held it out for him anyway. “If you’re wrong this time, I’ll never believe you again.”

“That was eight hours?” Cas’ memory of that fever was a little hazy. “Seriously, Dean. I’m fine. I’m just nervous.”

“You, nervous? I’m calling bullshit on that. I’ve never seen you nervous. You don’t get show nerves. Crowley watching you ride is no big deal, he does it all the fuckin’ time.”

“Dean, this is my first Grand Prix since the accident.” Cas sat down to pull his boots on. “Does it occur to you, at all, that competing at this level is honestly terrifying? No, you see the outside. That smile you see in every video is from the adrenaline. Did you honestly believe any sane person competes at the top level of a very dangerous sport and _isn’t_ scared shitless?”

“Up until very recently I didn’t believe any sane person would go _near_ a horse,” Dean reminded him.

“There’s a lot more pressure. The jumps are bigger, and the courses are more technical, and if you fuck up, you get hurt. Killed, if you’re _really_ unlucky. So yes, Dean, I’m fucking nervous.” Cas pushed through Dean and climbed down from the truck. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a competition to win.”

Dean stood frozen in the doorway, watching Cas leave. Cas had snapped at him before, but this was different. This wasn’t his Cas. Something was definitely wrong.

Closing and then locking the truck, he dug through his medical knowledge for possible answers. Most of what he came up with scared him, so he scrapped that idea and headed to the stables. Talking to Jackdaw would ease the dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

He arrived just as Cas accepted a very relaxed Abaddon’s reins from Crowley.

As soon as Cas was out of earshot, Crowley turned to Dean and said, “You’re right, lad. Something’s wrong with him.”

Dean nodded, letting himself into Jack’s stable. “Something’s been off for nearly a week. He’s hardly sleeping. Lately he’s either not coming to bed at all, or coming to bed after I’m asleep and getting up before the fuckin’ rooster wakes me up at the ass-crack of dawn. Couldn’t tell you which.”

“Thought he looked tired.” Crowley shrugged. “Well, if he’s that determined to compete, we can’t stop him.”

“Tell me about it. He gives a new meaning to ‘stubborn’.” Dean groaned and pressed his face into Jackdaw’s mane. “It’s why he’s head of the family, even though his brothers are both older. He doesn’t know how to back down.”

“He’s also very business-minded,” Crowley pointed out. “A late scratching would hurt his business. There’s nothing wrong with my horse, and this time, he can’t swing a late rider change.”

“Poor performance would be worse,” Dean mumbled into Jackdaw’s neck.

“That it would.”

Grimacing, Dean pulled himself away from his horse. “Alright. Let’s go watch.”

The instant Cas rode into the arena, Dean knew whatever was wrong was bigger than it looked. There was no smile on Cas’ face; in fact, the equestrian just looked tired.

“Castiel Novak is in the arena on Abaddon of Novak, but where’s his trademark smile? This announcer can’t help but wonder about its absence. Something, ladies and gentlemen, is not right. This will be an interesting ride.”

Dean wanted to strangle the too-gleeful announcer. It was one thing to be amused by a fall - some of them were kind of funny - but when something was clearly wrong, it wasn’t cool to enjoy that fact.

“Don’t kill the guy yet,” Crowley muttered. “Wait and see what happens first.”

Dean nodded and reined his temper in.

Cas brought Abaddon around to the first jump, riding between the starting flags just seconds after they sounded the air horn. He was strong and balanced over the first few fences, but then tiny things started going wrong. Dean wouldn’t have even noticed them if not for Abaddon progressively getting crankier and crankier. And then she yanked the reins out of Cas’ hands with so much force that one rein snapped.

The crowd gasped.

Cas didn’t bat an eyelid. He just gathered the leather up so Abaddon wouldn’t get her legs tangled, and steered her with his legs and the one remaining rein.

“Can you believe it, folks? Catastrophic equipment failure and not only does Mr. Novak remain in control of his mount, he _keeps riding through the course_ as if nothing happened! What a rider! What a horse!”

“That’s my girl,” Crowley said.

Dean ignored him, watching Cas. The mistakes were visible now - the equestrian kept putting Abaddon in difficult takeoff spots and his form in the saddle wasn’t as tight and precise as normal. And Abaddon was getting shitty with him. She bucked twice after the Swedish oxer at fence twelve, and then went to duck off to the right instead of jumping thirteen. Cas corrected her with a tap on her right shoulder with his riding crop, but she didn’t tuck her forelegs as tightly as she needed to, and knocked the top rail down.

“No chance of placing now, folks. A total of fifteen riders had clear rounds. One rail is all it takes at this point in the competition to completely knock a rider out of contention.”

Dean didn’t care about the rail. He was more worried about Cas. There was something about the set of those strong shoulders that bothered him. It was like Cas’ muscles were fighting _against_ their memory - almost like they wanted to hunch, but couldn’t.

“Gonna go meet him in the warmup arena,” Dean said to Crowley, before standing and walking away. He’d just gotten there when Cas rode in from the competition arena.

“Ugh… I was riding like shit out there,” Cas complained. “That rail was my fault. She hangs her forelegs when she’s pissed off at me and I gave her lots of reasons to be.” He dismounted, staggering when his feet hit the ground. “You were right, Dean, I should have just scratched…”

“Cas, you rode more than half that course with _one rein_. Everyone could see something wasn’t right from the start, and everyone saw you calmly gather up the broken rein and carry on. You’re not allowed to be disappointed with yourself, because everyone else is _very_ impressed.” Dean took Abaddon’s reins and hugged Cas tight. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

Cas trembled in his arms and let out a soft whimper. “I just… want to go home now.”

Crowley appeared, apparently out of nowhere. “I’ll untack and hose my horse down, thanks. Winchester, you look after your boyfriend.”

“Will do,” Dean said, handing Abaddon’s reins over. “Come on, babe, let’s go back to the truck. I’ll pack up the truck as soon as you’re asleep.”

Cas didn’t think his legs would hold him up long enough to get to the truck, but he was wrong. His knees waited until he was halfway up the four-rung ladder before they gave out. Dean, who was already inside, caught him and hauled him up the rest of the way, then carried him to the bed.

Dean went into paramedic mode immediately thereafter. Cas just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, but Dean shone a bright white pen-light in his eyes, then shoved a thermometer into his mouth, then checked his pulse.

“Cas.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your pulse is fast and not as strong as usual, and you're running a little warm. Open up and say aah.”

Cas obliged, then almost gagged when Dean used the thermometer to push his tongue down.

“You’ll probably have a sore throat when you wake up,” Dean told him. “It’s a little inflamed. Any soreness in your joints?”

“No,” said Cas, “but my skin hurts.”

“Virus, then,” Dean replied calmly. “If you wake up with a stuffy nose and blocked sinuses, it’s the flu. Now go to sleep.”

“Mmh.” Cas obediently closed his eyes and fell asleep to Dean stroking his hair and singing _Carry On Wayward Son_.

It only took fifteen minutes to pack everything up and another ten to get all three horses onto the truck. Crowley helped load Abaddon, because she didn’t seem to want to go home.

“You look after my favorite horse and rider,” Crowley ordered him.

“Yes, sir.” Dean climbed up into the cab and put the key in the ignition. “I’ll keep them both safe.”

“Good lad.”

An hour into the drive, Dean pulled over. Normally, Cas would have murmured or snuffled in his sleep at least once by now. This silence - apart from engine noise - was concerning.

He cut the engine and headed back to the living quarters. Cas was asleep on his stomach with one arm hanging off the bed. Dean sat down beside him and kissed his temple.

“Mmmh?” Cas groaned.

Dean smiled at the inarticulate question. “It’s okay, honey,” he murmured. “Keep on sleeping. The horses are fine and we aren’t home yet. Just sleep.”

“‘Kay.”

Settling himself down next to Cas, he ran his fingers through that beautiful, messy black hair. He just wanted to hear the usual snuffles and murmurs.

It took a couple of hours, but finally, Cas rolled over and mumbled something about laser bears with jetpacks.

“Dude,” Dean chuckled, “you have some weird-ass dreams.”

“Nargle,” Cas said matter-of-factly.

Dean had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from laughing too loudly at that. Grabbing an energy drink out of the fridge on the way, he fled back to the cab and got the truck back on the road. With a cursory glance at the monitor to check the horses, of course.

“Urgh,” Cas groaned, joining Dean in the cab as he pulled the truck up to a diesel pump.

“I take it you’re not feeling any better, then?” Dean laid the back of his hand across Cas’ forehead. “You’re warmer than you were before.”

“Do we have any aspirin?”

“Tylenol would be a better idea. We have both, in the first aid kit. And cold and flu tablets.”

“Nose and sinuses are fine,” Cas told him. “Everything hurts. Nothing is blocked. Did you give the horses their dinner?”

Dean nodded. “Before we left the show. They got fresh hay nets, too, and a couple of carrots each. Worry about yourself. I’ll look after the horses.” He turned his attention to the gas station attendant, who was patiently waiting for direction. “Fill her up. Both tanks. She’s been running on vapors for the past ten miles.”

The guy nodded and went to do just that.

“How far from home are we?” Cas pressed his cheek against the window.

“About an hour. We’d almost be there by now but I keep heading back to check on you.” Dean hummed. “Don’t need to do that now.”

“Mmm.” Cas went to get up, but Dean stopped him.

“Stay there. I’ll be back with painkillers and something for you to eat.” He didn’t pause for Cas’ response, just opened the door and swung down from the truck.

Cas rubbed his eyes. The sun would set soon, but even then, he wouldn’t be able to escape the too-bright light. The truck was only a couple of years old and had bright backlighting on the dash. Most of the screens couldn’t be turned off. The running lights in the living quarters worked from the headlight switch, so going back to bed would do him no good.

Someone tapped on the window - which surprised him, considering it was seven feet above the ground. He peeled his cheek away from the glass and buzzed it down.

“Hey, are you okay?” the girl asked, hanging off the truck.

“Mmh.” Cas grimaced. “Got the flu.” As far as he could tell, he actually had something else, but more people understood ‘flu’.

“Oh, no! That’s bad timing! So you’re heading home, I take it?”

He nodded. “Show was a bust.”

“That’s no good. What happened?”

As if he had the energy to discuss it! “Made a client’s horse drop a rail. Wasn’t the one riding the other two.”

“Aw, well I’m sure your client will understand, right? You’re sick-”

“Step down from the truck and leave the man alone,” Dean boomed from across the lot. The girl squeaked and leapt down, scrambling away.

Cas buzzed the window back up and slumped in his seat. He’d only been awake for a few minutes but his eyelids already weighed a ton, and his vision kept blurring out. The only thing keeping him awake was the unpleasant sensation of his brain trying to claw its way out through his skull.

Dean climbed back into the truck with a covered bowl in one hand and a packet of Tylenol in the other. Once he was settled, he popped two Tylenol out of the blister pack into Cas’ waiting palm and handed the bowl and a spoon over.

Cas tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s tomato soup,” Dean explained. “They didn’t have any chicken noodle.”

“Mkay.” Cas ate the soup, swallowed the pills, and went back to sleep.

Dean gave him three days to show improvement, but Cas slept for most of those three days, popping pills like candy. He only ate when Dean threatened to take him to hospital, and for the most part, refused to move.

It wasn’t until the morning of the fourth day that Dean saw any improvement. He was playing _Shadow of Mordor_ on his xbox, with Gabe and Balt watching and occasionally commenting, when Cas stumbled in. He looked like shit, but he was on his feet, which was more than Dean had seen in days.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Gabe teased.

“Feeling any better?” Dean asked.

“Mmmh.” Cas’ voice was cracked and husky. “My body stopped hurting. That’s progress. I think. And I’m kind of hungry.”

Dean handed the controller to Balt and got up. He crossed the living room in four huge strides and embraced Cas, blinking back relieved tears. “You know the only reason you’re not in hospital now is because Anna talked me into giving you a couple more days to start improving, right?”

“You’ve spoken to Anna?”

“Last night when I was at work.” Dean let Cas go and looked him over. “You were asleep when I left and asleep when I got back so I didn’t expect you to remember.”

“Oh. Okay.” Cas’ stomach rumbled so loudly that Balt paused the game and turned to stare. “Um. Can I have breakfast now?”

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Cas was fully recovered, that Balthazar dropped the bombshell. The two working pupils who lived in the house, Cas, Dean, Gabe, Balt, Hael and baby Leah were all seated around the dining table, waiting for the cook to bring them tonight’s meal of veal ravioli, when Balt tapped his glass with his fork.

Silence fell.

“You all remember the… incident a few weeks ago. Raphael returned to the farm without permission, hoping to claim one of our horses. I can only assume he wanted Berry - he can’t have known she’s not with us anymore.” Balt paused, fiddling with his fork. “We all know I shot him in self-defence when he lunged at me. Of course I expected his family to try to turn this into a race issue, but our lawyer assures me we have nothing to worry about there - our staff are diverse and all paid equally and fairly despite there being very little regulation for wages in our industry. They wanted to press criminal charges, but the Sheriff had already ruled out any wrongdoing. So we have these things in our favor.”

Dean looked down at the table. Sam would probably have input for this conversation, but he wasn’t here.

“But?” Gabriel pressed.

“The Angeles family has one other option for legal recourse. And it looks like they’re going to take it. They’re filing a civil suit against me for the unlawful death of Raphael Angeles, and another against Novak Equestrian for good measure. Our lawyer wholly believes their case to be weak and poorly thought-out, but the courts haven’t thrown it out. This suit might damage our reputation.” Balt looked about forty in that moment. “We should win, in the end, but we should be ready for an ugly fight… and it might hurt business.”

“Can’t see why it should,” Dean offered. “Everyone knows you’re the best trainers in Kansas, short of Old Sal, and Sal’s taken on two clients in the past three months. And everyone knows the Angeles family are assholes.”

“Dean, you’re missing the point,” Gabriel said. “Our perfect record is ruined. Someone’s suing us.”


End file.
